


those who favor fire

by andchaos



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Roommates, and they were roommates..., oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 09:05:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15682287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andchaos/pseuds/andchaos
Summary: “You’ve just, you’ve got to stop growing your beard out, man,” Dennis said. Mac turned around again, weary. Dennis was wearing a wry smile. He met his eye, looking happy. “If you get any more handsome, I’m gonna have to fuck you.”This wasn't happening.This wasn’t anything. It was just a stupid lust thing, which he always got whenever a boy smiled at him a little too long or said something a little too nice. It would go away in a few days. Mac wouldn’t normally have been so worried, except it wasDennis. It just had to be his goddamn roommate.





	those who favor fire

**Author's Note:**

> title from Fire and Ice by Robert Frost
> 
> i hate rob and glenn because [this is the look](http://lesbianfreyja.tumblr.com/post/173205514780) of these twink ass bitches. and [this is the single post](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/moepoke/129001291635) that this entire fic is based from.
> 
> I've been saving this, and it's officially my ONE HUNDREDTH FIC on ao3!! so you know it's special. enjoy this ridiculous labor of love  
> xo

Mac double-checked the address when he first pulled up to the apartment complex, the numbers scrawled across his palm a little smudged from sweat and the steering wheel. Surely _that_ was the reason that this area of town was most definitely out of his price range – because he had fucked up and gone to the wrong spot. The newspaper ad had listed the monthly rent as so low that it couldn’t possibly belong to this complex.

The writing he could still make out on his palm matched the big sign by the parking lot, though, so with a sigh he cut the engine to his shitty old car and climbed out.

The door to the lobby was wide open and unguarded, which eased some of Mac’s discomfort. He climbed the stairs up to the fifth floor, found the right apartment number, and, hesitating, finally knocked.

“Who the fuck is it?” the voice from inside called.

Mac’s eyebrows raised towards his hairline. Nonetheless, he cleared his throat and called back, “It’s Mac. I’m, um, the guy who’s coming over to take a look at the apartment. You put an ad out for a new roommate.”

The whole thing came out sounding like a question. Mac mentally kicked himself for acting like some know-nothing asshole; he really needed this place. His and Charlie’s moms had finally sacked up and told the both of them to get the hell out of their places, and after a week of staying with Charlie under the bridge and showering at the local YMCA, they had finally made a pact to get their shit together and find somewhere to live by the end of the month.

This was the sixth place Mac had tried, and if the greeting was any indication, it wouldn’t be any better than the first five: Riddled with asbestos, bedroom smaller than the closet, definitely a child molester, definitely a squatter, hadn’t answered the door. Mac couldn’t wait to find out what the problem would be with _this_ guy.

At last the door swung open and a lanky guy who looked around Mac’s age was facing him on the other side. His short hair was curling at the ends, and he was wearing a truly ugly white graphic t-shirt with blue trim. He wasn’t bad-looking, really, with his angular feminine features – Mac was just more into bigger, more muscular guys.

Not that it made a difference anyway. There was no way in hell that Mac would even be coming out to this guy, let alone making a move.

The guy in question was lounging against the door, one eyebrow arched, and Mac realized he’d been staring.

“Oh,” he said, shaking himself. “What’s up? I’m Mac.”

“You said that,” the guy drawled, rolling his eyes. When they just stood there for another few moments, staring at each other, the guy sighed and waved Mac inside, saying, “Well, are you just going to stand there? I thought you wanted to see the apartment, man.”

“Chill out, bro,” said Mac, unable to keep some of the venom out of his voice. The guy just gave him a bemused smile as he stepped past him over the threshold.

“I’m Dennis,” he said. “Take a seat on the couch. You want a beer?”

“Sure.” Why not?

Dennis came back with a couple of beers and handed one to Mac. When Dennis cracked open his own, he tipped it back and swallowed nearly half of it in one go. Reluctantly impressed, Mac took a few deep swigs of his can as well before setting it down on the coffee table before him.

He took a moment to look around the apartment. It was small, sure, but relatively well-kept. The living room bled into the kitchen with only a countertop and wood flooring to officially separate the rooms, and Mac could see into one of the bedrooms from here. The door of it was slightly ajar and the room seemed to peak into a bathroom, but he couldn’t be sure.

“So,” said Dennis, lounging with one hip against an armchair. He drew Mac’s attention back to him with just the simple word. “What are you looking for in an apartment?”

“Someplace cheap, I guess,” said Mac, scratching at the back of his neck. “My mom finally kicked me out and I just need somewhere to go. I wanted to stay in Philly, and I can’t afford more than five hundred a month. Your ad said that’s what the room was going for, right?”

“That’s right,” said Dennis. He seemed to be studying Mac’s face now, curiously; Mac tilted his head in silent question, but Dennis didn’t give an answer.

“What are you looking for in a roommate, then?” Mac asked when the silence stretched on. “’Cause I mean, look – I won’t get into any of your business. I don’t really care what you do. I keep all my mess to my own room, and honestly, I’m pretty fucking clean. I’m good for a few months’ rent up front. I worked a few jobs with my dad before he…Well, anyway, I can pay. All I want is TV and somewhere to pass out.”

Somewhere to pass out that wasn’t under a bridge, ideally, but Mac wasn’t about to just say that. Aside from not wanting this guy to think he was some sort of trailer trash, he also didn’t need him thinking that he could get one over on Mac just because he was desperate.

Dennis was just looking at him, though, not saying anything at all. Mac arched a brow after a while and reached to pick his beer back up, and he swigged down a few more gulps.

“Why don’t I give you a look around?” Dennis offered at last.

The place was meager. Aside from the kitchen and living room, which Mac had already seen, there were just the two bedrooms. Dennis’s was larger than the unused one, but they each had their own bathroom attached right inside and they were across the apartment from each other, so any odd sleeping habits they had wouldn’t get on each other’s nerves. When Dennis led Mac back out into the living room, Mac had to admit that he was pretty interested in moving in.

“I have to ask,” he said, “there’s no way this place is only one thousand a month. Why are you giving me such a deal on the spare room, bro?”

They both sat down, Mac back on the couch, Dennis opting for the chair he had been leaning against before. He tapped his fingers against his bottom lip, looking away from Mac and toward the window, for a long moment before he spoke.

“Let’s just say, I’m bored,” Dennis said, turning back to him at last. “I’m about to graduate college, and the only person I can stand in town is my twin sister – but there’s no _way_ I’d ever share space with her. In all honesty, Mac, my dad’s paying for half this place anyway. What do I care if I cut you a deal? All I’m really looking for is some good company. Someone I don’t mind seeing every day.”

In other words, someone to hang out with – not that Mac would put it so bluntly, lest Dennis thought that Mac pegged him for someone bribing a guy to be his friend.

“Your dad’s paying for this place?” Mac asked instead.

Dennis shrugged. The beginnings of a smile – or maybe a smirk – started to curl the edges of his mouth.

“Not that he knows about that,” Dennis confided.

Mac didn’t ask what he meant, unsure he really wanted to be caught up in whatever sketchy relationship Dennis had with his father, especially after just meeting him. Instead he hung around for one more beer while they chatted about the game and their favorite dive bars in the city, and then he stood up to go.

Dennis led him to the door, and Mac turned around to look at him.

“So, when can I expect to hear back from you?” he asked, holding out his hand.

Dennis grabbed his palm and shook.

“Dude, you’ve already got it.” He clapped Mac on the back as he released his hand. “So, when do you want to move in?”

Mac froze. He blinked at him for a long couple of seconds, and then he broke out into a wide smile.

 

Mac slammed the door shut to the apartment, stepped over the mess of old beer cans and dirty clothes on the floor, and promptly face-planted directly onto the couch.

Dennis peaked his head out from the kitchen.

“Rough day, dude?”

Mac groaned into the arm of the couch instead of answering.

Dennis let him be for a while. Mac could hear him clattering around in the kitchen, opening and shutting the fridge, rifling through the cutlery, turning on the timer on the oven and then listening to it go off. The whole while he just lay where he had fallen on the couch, unable and unwilling to move. The mess surrounding him in the living room was pricking at his nerves, but he couldn’t find the energy to get up yet.

At last Dennis came out of the kitchen and nudged Mac’s legs off the couch so he could sit down near the coffee table. Grumbling, Mac pushed himself up only to slouch back on the other side of the couch. He could see now that Dennis had finally reheated the old Subway sandwich from the back of the fridge, and Mac stared at it for so long that Dennis heaved a great sigh and, rolling his eyes, nudged the plate over to Mac so that he could take a bite.

“ _God_ , I’m exhausted,” Mac sighed, slumping back into the cushions. “A fourteen hour work day. _Fourteen hours!_ For the third fucking day in a row.”

Dennis glanced at him.

“When do you have a day off?” he asked through a mouthful of sandwich.

“I’m free until Sunday, thank God.”

“Three days is plenty of time to get your energy back up,” Dennis said cheerfully. “At least you aren’t up to your ears in midterm exams. I swear to God, they should be illegal.”

“Oh no,” said Mac mockingly, pulling an exaggerated puppy face. “The sad little rich boy has to go to college while everyone else is out here in the real world, working their ass off for the same housing and food that he gets in his monthly checks from daddy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dennis said. “Dad doesn’t pay for shit.”

“He pays half your rent, man.”

“And you only pay five hundred, so shut your mouth,” Dennis threatened, narrowing his eyes. “Are you really going to be sleeping for the rest of the weekend?”

Mac shrugged one shoulder, too tired to lift the both of them at once. “Yeah, maybe. I might have a date tomorrow, if I feel up for it.”

“Oh hell yes, Mac! I’m happy for you, you haven’t been out with a chick in forever.”

At this, Mac could only smile weakly and look quickly away. It was true, he hadn’t been out with a _chick_ in a while – far longer than Dennis knew, for sure. Mac would like to keep it that way.

“Yeah, she’s – she’s pretty gorgeous,” Mac said weakly, then quickly turned it around. “Why do you care what my plans are?”

“I’m just going to be studying here all weekend,” Dennis said. “Just try not to be too loud if you bring her back to our place, alright? I need to concentrate. The last time you and your friend Rex were here, I could hear you guys working out from across the entire apartment. How much can that dude lift, anyway?”

“What?” Mac was hoping his face wasn’t the guilty shade of beet red he thought it was.

“He just sounded like he was lifting a lot.” He took another bite of his sandwich, apparently oblivious to the rapidly shifting color of Mac’s cheeks. “I was just wondering how much he could bench.”

“165,” Mac said quickly. His energy was fast returning, and he leveraged himself up off the couch, ready with an excuse so he could make a beeline for his room. “I’m going to take a shower and pass the fuck out, dude.”

“Wait, wait!” Dennis said, flapping a hand at Mac in an effort to encourage him back down onto the couch. “I want to hear about your date tomorrow! Where did you meet her? What does she look like?” His grin turned sly. “How big are her tits?”

“I’m – yeah,” Mac said, helpfully.

Dennis gave him a weird look.

“I’m just really tired,” Mac said. “Let’s do this tomorrow morning, alright? I’ll answer whatever you want.”

Dennis eyed him suspiciously for another long moment before his expression cleared, and he relaxed into an easy smile.

“Alright dude, whatever. But trust me, I’ll be prying a _shit_ ton at breakfast.”

Mac gave a weird approximation of a laugh and headed for his bedroom as quickly as he could without it seeming out of place.

The thing was, it wasn’t safe for boys like Mac to be out. Maybe if he was rich and famous and pretty and interesting, nobody could touch him, but he wasn’t. He was poor and a nobody and dirty inside and out, and that was no way to be as a boy who liked boys. And not everyone was like that, but Mac didn’t know Dennis’s opinions on the subject well enough to tell how he felt about the whole thing.

He made jokes just like everybody else did – just like Mac did, really. He talked about beefcakes and laughed about bromances and made fun of famous lesbians – that was just what it was. But the only times Mac heard about real gay news was in the back rooms of the clubs he went to, late at night, and he wasn’t going to bring it up at home just in case his roommate thought it was suspicious for Mac to even know about that kind of stuff. So he had no real way to feel Dennis out at all.

Anyway, Dennis always said he didn’t care if somebody was gay or not. The difference was, the things Dennis said when they passed campy guys on the street wasn’t necessarily how he might feel if he lived with one of them.

Mac stripped out of his t-shirt and headed for the shower. He was going to have to pretend, that was all. It was nothing new. He’d already been doing that for over twenty years.

 

Mac slept until well past noon the next day and canceled his date after all. After being on his feet all week hauling boxes, his muscles hurt and all he wanted to do was slouch around the apartment all weekend. The air conditioning was out again, so he went into the kitchen in just a tight pair of striped underwear and still felt like he was dying of a heat stroke.

“Woah,” Dennis laughed. “Those don’t leave a whole lot to the imagination, huh?”

Mac turned around from where he was retrieving the milk from the fridge. Dennis was grinning at him from the dining room table, which was currently piled with textbooks and notebooks and writing tools. Mac just shrugged and went to dump the milk into his bowl of cereal.

“I’m sweating my balls off, even in only this,” he complained. “When are you going to call the landlord and get him to fix the fucking AC?”

“I already did,” Dennis said, putting up his hands. He still had a highlighter trapped in between two of his fingers. “It’s not just us, the whole building is having electrical problems. He said they’re having a guy get down to deal with it this weekend.”

“Dennis,” Mac said, and he refused to believe that it sounded whiney.

“Hey, there’s nothing I can do! I already have all the fans going that I could find. Shit, I even stole a few from my sister.”

Mac sighed.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “The one in my room is from Mrs Kelly’s place.”

He looked dejectedly around the kitchen for a moment before coming to the conclusion that there was nothing he could do to cool himself down, unless he wanted to hike up their electricity bill by sticking his head in the freezer. Not that it really mattered, since Dennis covered all the utilities anyway. Or his dad did.

Grumbling, Mac got a spoon out and went to sit down in what little space Dennis could clear off the table without dumping his things on the floor or covering up any necessary notes.

They sat in silence for a while, except for the turning of Dennis’s pages and Mac’s soft chewing. Actually, Mac was spacing out, thinking about his canceled date and wondering whether he would be able to make it up to him at some point, when Dennis broke the silence again.

“Are you gonna be wearing nothing but that all weekend?” Dennis asked with an uncomfortable laugh.

Mac looked down at himself and then back up at Dennis.

“If it’s gonna stay this fucking hot, probably,” he said. His brow furrowed. “Why?”

Dennis shrugged, his cheeks coloring faintly pink. He looked back down at his notes.

“Just wondering,” he said. “Just don’t go answering the door or anything. We have to be careful, people already assume that we’re gay.”

He said this last bit with a wry little smile as he caught Mac’s eye, wriggling his hand in a maybe-like gesture at Mac. Clearly teasing.

Mac’s spoon hit the bowl and he was pretty sure he turned even paler than he already was from lasting through the Philly winter.

“Why the fuck would they think that?” he asked loudly.

Dennis’s smile slipped off his face like butter on a hot pan. He said nothing for a long moment, and Mac stared him down with a scowl.

“I’m just kidding,” he said finally. “Jeez, Mac, relax. Nobody actually thinks that. We all saw you going out with Carmen last month. She’s _hot_.”

“Yeah,” Mac said stiffly. He shook his head, relaxing back in his chair. “Yeah, whatever. Sorry, man.”

Dennis glanced at him curiously. “Whatever,” he echoed.

Mac fiddled with the spoon for a moment, glaring down at his bowl of cereal. He and Carmen weren’t anything; she just went out with him occasionally as a beard, and in exchange he slipped her numbers from hot girls and boys who might be interested. She was fun to hang out with, anyway – they liked to go out to gay bars together. It was a good system, as long as Dennis didn’t find out she was trans. Or that they were just friends.

“Hey, Dennis?” he asked, his voice softer than before. “Do people really think we’re gay?”

Dennis glanced up at him for just a second, but then he did a double-take. He peered at Mac curiously, a highlighter stuck between his lips. Mac looked for a second longer than necessary.

“It’s just stupid chatter around the building,” Dennis said. He sounded so calm, considering the magnitude of a rumor like that. Even if he was straight, Mac would have been in a panic about it. “The dude from 2F said something the other day when I was checking the mailbox. But it’s nothing, right?”

Their eyes caught for a long moment. Mac swallowed and looked back down at his cereal.

“Right,” he said.

Mac finished eating soon after and put his bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, then went to flop face-down on his bed in front of the standing fan he’d taken from Charlie. He must have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing he was aware of was a light tapping on his doorframe. He rolled over and blinked up at the sound, until the dark figure shimmered and solidified back into Dennis.

“You wanna watch a movie?” Dennis asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder into the living room. “I just rented _Thunder Gun Express_ and I hear it’s supposed to be awesome.”

Mac sat up, rubbing at his eyes. “You’re not too busy with midterms?”

Dennis gave a wry little smile. “I’m taking a break. You in? I’m making popcorn.”

Mac couldn’t say no to that.

They settled onto opposite ends of the couch together, although it wasn’t very big and when Mac slumped down with his legs spread out wide, his knee was almost touching Dennis’s anyway. They put the popcorn in a big bowl Dennis had stolen from Dee and set that in the middle of the cushions between them. Dennis flipped on the movie.

The lead guy was a beefy dude. He was supposed to be some warrior from a post-apocalyptic underground society, and damn if he didn’t look the part. Mac was more or less tuning out the parts where he talked about traveling back in time to save his lover because he kept saying _she_ and Mac was more interested in this guy topping him than some chick.

“I want him to save _me_ from an evil robot army,” Dennis murmured, throwing more popcorn into his open mouth.

Mac grinned at him. “They expect me to believe it takes two and a half hours for this dude to fight his way to his girlfriend?”

“Right?” said Dennis. “He could take out that whole army in less than five.”

Mac laughed out loud. It was fair; the dude’s arms were bigger than Mac’s whole face. Mac threw some more popcorn into his mouth. Their hands brushed when he reached into the bowl.

They watched in silence for a while, only really speaking to shout out when a particularly violent or interesting thing happened onscreen, or to whisper predictions they had for the ending. Dennis thought it was very straightforward; he would beat the robot army, get the girl, and travel back to his own time. Mac, however, was sure there were some twists yet to come.

They were both right, in the end. He defeated the robot army with no problem and lots of explosions, and he rescued the girlfriend in a thrilling reunion scene, complete with swelling music and a big, romantic kiss.

Except Mac was right too. The big, romantic kiss became a big, romantic lovemaking scene. Mac settled in to carefully ignore the woman while they lasted through ten seconds of fake moaning and the main lead writhing on top of her. But when he dropped his pants, the camera dropped too.

Time slowed. Mac was pretty sure his mouth was very suspiciously agape, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away or rearrange his features. The camera panned out to a wider angle, but all that did was switch the close-up of the lead guy’s junk to a full body, full-frontal shot of him. Mac swallowed, his tongue swiping across his lower lip.

The whole thing only lasted about four full seconds. Mac blinked, his mind skating over the rest of the sex scene, the picture of the protagonist’s full, naked body sitting pretty in the forefront of Mac’s imagination. He took a good five minutes to blink away the memory and refocus on the movie enough to catch the end.

It was also only then that he remembered to glance over at Dennis and gauge how he felt – about the scene, and about Mac’s reaction to it. But his expression was blank, his eyes on the screen and his face indicating nothing but impassivity toward both Mac and the movie. Mac slumped back further into the couch, relieved, and as he did so his knee pressed into Dennis’s even more. Right before he looked away, Dennis glanced at him and caught his eye.

“What?” he asked, even as his gaze strayed back towards the TV screen.

“Nothing,” said Mac. “Was just wondering if you also thought it was weird that they showed all of his junk and everything.”

“Why would I find that weird?” Dennis asked curiously.

Mac shrugged a shoulder uncomfortably. “I don’t know, man. Because this is an action movie, not some chick flick. Dudes don’t want to see that kind of thing when we barely even get to see the girlfriend shirtless.”

Although he frowned the slightest bit, Dennis said nothing. He just continued to watch the movie, and after a moment Mac sighed and turned his attention back to it too. There was only ten or so minutes left anyway.

When the credits rolled, Dennis grabbed the empty popcorn bowl and insisted that he needed to get back to studying. Mac flipped off the TV and retreated back into his room, crawling back onto his mattress like the time apart from it had been physically painful. Despite the nap earlier, he was still exhausted from his work schedule the past few days, and he considered just going to bed. He remembered canceling on his date yesterday, though, and with a sigh he opened his phone and texted asking to reschedule. The guy answered quickly; he was busy with his girlfriend tonight, but he’d be free next weekend. Mac sent off a quick confirmation text and rolled over to sleep.

He woke up the next morning coated in sweat, and went to shower away the grime he could feel covering him like it was seeping its way underneath his skin. He was nearly out of skimpy underwear to wear, but he dug an old pair out of the back of his drawer and threw it on. It was a little tight, the elastic worn out so that it clung in odd places and hung off him in others, but it would do. No way Mac would survive in this heat if he put on anything else.

Dennis fully choked on his coffee when Mac came into the kitchen. After two days of similar dramatics, though, Mac was used to it, and he ignored him in favor of making himself a cup too. He sat down opposite Dennis at the kitchen table, trying very hard not to notice how Dennis was staring at him.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” Mac asked, sipping his coffee.

Dennis shrugged. “Studying. What else?”

“Fun,” Mac said hollowly. “And you jump down _my_ throat for never getting out of the house.”

“Some of us have passes to class,” Dennis said. He shook his head. “ _Classes_ to _pass_. Jesus Christ, maybe I do need a break.”

Mac snorted. “We could go out tonight.”

Dennis sighed. “Too tired.”

“Jesus fuck, it’s like you’re forty.”

Dennis flipped him off.

They ended up spending most of the day sequestered in their rooms, each lying on their bed with all the fans they could gather turned to face them. Around five, Mac’s rumbling stomach was too painful to ignore any longer, and he heaved himself up to go rummage for food.

Dennis was in the kitchen when Mac got there, sticking his head in the freezer. Mac jerked him back by the shoulder.

“Stop that,” he snapped. “We already agreed that we can’t afford to hike up our bill.”

Dennis pulled a face. “It’s _hot_.”

“I know that,” Mac said, letting him go.

Sulkily, Dennis retreated to the window. There was no breeze to be found, no matter how many times he licked his finger and stuck it outside. Mac brought him an icepack and slipped it down the back of his shirt. Instead of flailing about, annoyed like Mac had expected, Dennis sighed contentedly and slumped down against the windowsill. Mac slapped a second pack across his own forehead and leaned against the wall. He squinted down at the sidewalk, idly watching the city go by. It took him a minute to notice that Dennis was looking at him.

“What?” he asked, when their eyes had caught but Dennis didn’t immediately say anything.

Dennis shrugged, turning away from him.

“ _What_?” Mac insisted.

“Nothing, man,” said Dennis, shrugging a shoulder. “I just figured you might have wanted to shave or something while you were shut up in your room at day.”

“What are you, the fucking hygiene police?” Mac asked. “I’ve been lying around all weekend.”

“Whatever,” said Dennis, pushing up to his feet and passing Mac by to get more ice, which he rolled in a paper towel and slung around his neck.

Dennis was so fucking weird, sometimes. Mac sighed and went to the cupboards to resume his search for something to satisfy the hunger pangs. He started pulling them open at random, even though he knew that they hadn’t gone shopping in a while and there was nothing there. There wasn’t anything in the fridge, either, although that didn’t stop Mac from pulling it open and checking three separate times.

“Are you going to get to it tomorrow?” Dennis asked.

Mac lifted his head out of a cabinet. “What?”

“Shaving,” Dennis prompted. “Are you going to do it before work tomorrow?”

“What? I don’t know, dude.” Mac glared at him. “What do you care? Drop it. It’s my business.”

Dennis did, for a beat. Mac turned to look in the cabinet again.

“You’ve just, you’ve got to stop growing your beard out, man,” Dennis said. Mac turned around again, weary. Dennis was wearing a wry smile. He wasn’t quite looking at Mac; then he swept his hand through his hair and met his eye, looking happy. “If you get any more handsome, I’m gonna have to fuck you.”

Dennis laughed. Mac’s entire body seized up, although what he _wasn’t_ expecting was for a deep shiver to wrack through him, starting at the very top of his spine and ending somewhere at the tips of his curling toes. It looped around in the middle too, pooling deep in his gut as a low heat. Mac swallowed hard. He forced himself to come up with a dry smile.

He gave up on eating and cooling down. He would fucking starve or sweat to death if that’s what it took to get out of this room.

“In your dreams,” he retorted. Retreating into the living room gave him a good excuse not to look Dennis in the eye. He felt like he was speaking around a ten pound weight in the center of his throat. “I’d be a top, all the way.”

Dennis turned a little red, and Mac wondered if he’d taken the joke too far. But then Dennis broke out into a smile.

“Okay,” he said. Mac stopped walking and stared at him. “I’ll bottom for you, dude. With that beard? Whatever you want.”

Why were Mac’s feet stuck to the fucking floor? He wanted to get out of here as fast as he could. He wanted to flee to his room, or his bathroom – and get in the shower, and –

He stopped himself. He didn’t know where these thoughts were coming from, but he couldn’t be having them. Dennis wasn’t even his _type_. And he certainly wasn’t gay. He was just very secure in his masculinity, and he thought gay jokes were funny, and it made Mac want to punch him in his stupid, suddenly very-kissable face.

“You wish,” Mac snorted, looking away.

Dennis came toward him, and Mac froze again. But all he did was reach out and clap Mac on the shoulder. Mac could feel the heat of it all the way down to his fingers, which were suddenly itching to grab Dennis by the hips and slam him up against the wall so that Mac could wreck him from head to fucking toe. He could turn him, he was almost sure.

He shook his head, dispelling that line of thought again. This wasn’t happening.

“What do you want for dinner?” Dennis was saying. He had turned away, moving back toward the kitchen, but now he threw a smile over his shoulder when Mac didn’t answer right away. He prompted, “Mac? You’re hungry, right? I’m going to cook something. What are you in the mood for?”

“Something Italian.” Mac had to force his jaw to work, but now that he had jolted himself back to life, he found it easier to move the rest of his limbs too. He swung himself down onto the couch with almost no awkwardness. “Can you make that penne with the sun dried tomatoes? The fridge is empty, though.”

He glanced up. Dennis was smiling at him again.

“Sure,” he said. His voice sounded all velvety and sweet. He bent to look in the fridge, and then straightened up. “Oh, shit. Can you run to the store for me while I get this water boiling? I need some asparagus.”

Mac practically sprang off the couch. Anything to get out of this suffocating apartment.

He dressed fast and used the walk to the grocer’s to calm himself down, a cigarette wedged between his twitching fingers. This wasn’t anything. This was just a stupid lust thing, which he always got whenever a boy smiled at him a little too long or said something a little too nice. It would go away in a few days, after a couple wet dreams and a lot of talking himself down. Mac wouldn’t normally have been so worried, except it was _Dennis_. He lived with the guy. He was going to have to work harder than usual to cover it up until it blew over.

By the time he returned to the apartment with the groceries, he felt a little better about the whole thing. He had done this a million times before, willing away lust for a straight guy. He just had to last a couple of days.

He cracked open a cold beer for himself and then offered one to Dennis. Dennis made him open it for him, since his hands were full stirring pasta around the pot.

They shared smiles over dinner and it was like nothing had changed, but it had. Mac went to bed that night hoping that the feeling would wear off quickly. Instead, he dreamed about Dennis on his knees, sucking him off and letting Mac fuck his mouth all over their apartment. On the sofa, while Mac leaned over the kitchen sink, laying on his pillows with Mac’s knees bracketing his neck.

He woke up sweating, sitting bolt upright in the dark. It was just a dream. He was only dreaming.

Mac clapped a hand to his forehead and fell back onto his mattress with a groan. This was going to be _so_ much worse than he thought.

 

He went back to work the next day, which blessedly gave him some distance from Dennis for eight hours. Dennis was sleeping when Mac got back to the apartment, and Mac only briefly thought about him when he jerked off in the shower. It was a win, all things considered, especially when taking into account how long it had taken for Mac to get the cute cashier at the Wawa out of his head after he had told Mac he was willing to let slide the forty cents that Mac didn’t have to cover all of his groceries that one time.

Their apartment was still achingly hot the next morning. Mac had the morning free, so padded out of his room in the same state of undress he’d been in all weekend. Dennis’s eyes followed him while he made a cup of a coffee.

“Jesus, dude, those show more skin than the other pair,” Dennis choked out when Mac turned around.

Mac barely glanced at him. They were tight and black, but comfortable. Better than the ill-fitting pair from a couple days ago, anyway.

“Did the landlord call back with more info about the AC?” he asked instead.

Dennis blew out a long breath, sinking further into the couch. He had another midterm later today, but evidently this one wasn’t as pressing an issue as the one he took last Friday, because he was sprawled out on the couch eating cereal out of the box and watching a rerun of Scooby Doo.

“Nope. I talked to the chick across the hall though, and she said her friend on the first floor got the greenlight to install their own unit in the window.”

“What the hell? We got charged for trying to do that!”

“I know,” Dennis said, scowling. “Well, anyway. I called in asking if that was cool, but he told me to fuck off. I think he’s still pissed at us.”

“For what, the gun thing?”

“Yes,” Dennis said, glaring at him. “I don’t know why you listen to Charlie. Threatening people with a gun is _not_ any way to delay paying rent, you moron.”

“It worked for Charlie!”

“We live in a _much_ nicer part of town than Charlie,” Dennis said.

Mac scoffed. He settled down on the chair beside the couch and said, “Whatever, dude. Irrelevant.”

“It is not. Now we’re stuck living in Satan’s pit and I’m stuck looking at your fucking balls all day again.”

“Don’t look if you don’t like it,” Mac snapped.

“They practically bounce in my face when you lay on the couch,” Dennis shot back. “It’s impossible not to catch a look.”

“Whatever, dude. I’m just helping you fuel your wet dreams.”

“Yeah, _right_. When I have wet dreams, they’re one hundred percent hotter than imagining my roommate’s gross, sweaty balls in my face. I dream of like, chicks and stuff.”

Mac rolled his eyes. “I get it, dude. You’re straight. You’re a big, masculine, straight guy who doesn’t think about my balls. Especially not in the middle of the night, when you’re playing with yourself –”

Dennis reached out and pinched him hard in the arm. Mac laughed, and they briefly tussled until they both spilled hot coffee on themselves and they called a truce to avoid burn-related injuries.

“Tomorrow, we should get out the tools and try to fix the AC unit ourselves,” Mac said, pointing a finger at Dennis once they had settled back in their seats.

“Agreed,” Dennis said. “Okay, I’m going to go study at the library for a couple of hours before I have to go take this fucking test. I’ll see you later. Don’t wait up, I have a date with that chick from the pharmacy counter tonight.”

“Caylee?” Mac asked curiously.

He ignored the small twinge in his chest at the thought of them going out together. Probably it was for the best; if Dennis was seeing someone else, it would help Mac ignore the feelings that weren’t helped by things like Dennis joking about his balls and openly admitting that he was looking.

“Yeah, her. Okay, I’ll be back.”

Dennis grabbed his keys off the table, swept his notes into his backpack, and left. Mac sighed and slumped back in his chair. After a moment, he texted the boy he’d canceled on last week to definitively schedule something for Friday. The guy said yes in a matter of minutes, and Mac went back to looking around for something to do to kill the time between now and his afternoon shift. He thought about getting a start on the AC, but ended up just taking a nap on the couch instead.

Dennis wasn’t home when Mac got off work. He ate dinner alone and went to bed at one, but Dennis still wasn’t back.

 

He woke up the next morning to two hands on his shoulders and Dennis’s furious face inches from his own. Mac blinked awake, forehead creasing as reality settled in. His alarm was blaring on the bedside table.

“Turn that fucking thing off,” Dennis hissed, his entire face a truly impressive shade of red. “I can hear it across the fucking apartment.”

Mac blindly reached out, slapping at his bedside table until the noise finally stopped. He shoved Dennis back, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes.

“What? What happened?”

“You overslept, dickweed,” Dennis said, reaching over for the clock and throwing it at Mac’s chest. It hurt when it landed. “And that _fucking_ noise woke me the fuck up. I’m going to kill you. I don’t like being –”

“Holy _shit_.”

Mac had finally turned the clock up and gotten a look at the time. He had twenty minutes to get dressed and make the fifteen minute trek to his job. He ignored Dennis, throwing off his covers and scrambling to pull together an outfit. He hurried out of the room to pour coffee into a travel mug, leaving Dennis’s tirade to splutter out into nothingness behind him.

Dennis finally made it out into the living room as Mac was flying out the door.

“I’ll see you tonight!” he called.

Mac’s bosses kept him late again. By the time he trudged back home ten hours later, his feet ached and he was grumpy. Sweat was making every inch of his clothes stick to his skin, and he was basically ready to blow up at the first thing that crossed him. Probably that would be Dennis, since he loved to cross Mac. Talk about the most obnoxious living situation Mac could have found. Three months ago, when he was still living under the bridge, Mac would have said _that_ was the lowest he could sink, but Dennis always did like a challenge.

In direct contrast to this morning, though, Dennis seemed in good spirits. He was just flicking through a magazine at the counter, but he smiled at Mac when he came in.

“Fuck my boss,” Mac groaned, falling down backwards onto the couch and squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck my coworkers. Fuck my job. Fuck my _life_.”

Dennis moved out from behind the counter, settling his hands on his hips. Mac peeked up at him, only to be met with his expression, which was a cross between pity and amusement.

“Grow up,” Dennis advised sagely.

Mac flipped him off.

“Come on,” said Dennis, laughing. He reached down and grabbed Mac’s wrist, tugging on it until Mac, groaning, let Dennis pull him up to his feet. “Go shower, you reek. Let’s go out tonight or something, that will cheer you right up.”

“I don’t _feel_ like it.” Mac could hear the petulance in his voice. He didn’t care. It felt good to set his teeth so his chin jutted out childishly like that.

“I didn’t ask what you felt like,” Dennis said, sugar-sweet. He shoved Mac firmly in the back toward his room.

Mac showered mechanically, then pulled on a loose pair of basketball shorts and wandered back out into the kitchen to rummage for something to fill his stomach. Dennis was lying on the couch now, watching TV, but he sat up when Mac passed by. Mac could feel him staring and stopped to look at him, quizzical.

“I’m not going out tonight,” he said, hoping to preemptively derail that line of thinking.

“You don’t have to. Come sit,” Dennis said. “I found a horrible old reality show we can drink to.”

Mac gathered their usual drinking game items and joined him down on the couch: a bottle of liquor from the freezer, two shot glasses, a carton of OJ to wash down the taste.

The game was fairly simple: take a shot every time someone gets into a physical fight. _Bad Girls Club_ was on maybe five minutes before they had already taken two.

“So how was the date with Caylee last night?” Mac asked. “You didn’t roll in until way after I passed out.”

“It was fine,” Dennis said, shrugging. “She’s a knockout, but not a whole lot of conversation with her, you know what I mean?”

Mac really didn’t, especially considering how smart Caylee always seemed when he spoke to her at the pharmacy counter. He nodded anyway and poured them both more shots.

“Anyway, we banged but it wasn’t very good,” said Dennis, after they had downed the shots and took turns chugging from the OJ carton. “I honestly should have just stuck around and hung out with you. It would have been way more fun.”

Mac’s heart thumped in his chest. He looked away from Dennis, towards the TV.

“Plenty of time for that tonight though, right?” said Dennis.

Mac glanced at him and hummed his agreement. Dennis settled back on the couch; this time, he threw his arm out and it settled along the back cushions in such a way that his dangling fingers brushed Mac’s shoulder. He thought about shifting – whether closer or further from him, he honestly wasn’t sure – but ultimately decided that either one would only draw attention to the whole thing. He ended up sitting there for fifteen uncomfortable minutes, until Dennis got up to use the bathroom and he was mercifully released.

When Dennis got back, he sat down on the other end of the couch and kept his hands to himself. Mac tried to stop his knees from bouncing the entire night, but there was nothing he could do about his shaking hands.

 

The rest of the week only got progressively worse. He accidentally saw Dennis fresh out of the shower on Wednesday, which suitably destroyed any remaining hope Mac had of this blowing over in a couple of days. He also got treated to Dennis banging some girl on Thursday night, and the hot spikes of jealousy mixed in with the heat that seeped through him when he heard Dennis’s moaning through the walls. He spent that particular night shut up in his room with music blasting, but he still _knew_ what was happening a couple rooms over, and he didn’t stop thinking about it even long after the girl had left.

His own date Friday turned out to be less of a date and more about knocking boots in the back of the guy’s Chevy, which was horribly cramped and left Mac more sore than satisfied when he got dropped off at home again. The whole time he just kept thinking of Dennis anyway, which sucked because he knew that he was just sitting at home playing video games in his boxers and somehow the thought _still_ turned Mac on more than the guy who he was actively plowing.

So Mac invited Charlie out on Saturday. He needed to get out for the night, to take his mind off Dennis and settle it on somebody else.

“Charlie,” he hissed into their landline, checking behind him to make sure Dennis was still locked away in his room. “I need to get out of this fucking place for a bit. Come on, dude, please.”

“I’m not going to the gay club with you again, Mac,” Charlie sighed. “I hate it there. There’s never any women there.”

“Of course there’s no women there, Charlie. Well, not straight women anyway.”

“I have stuff to do. I don’t want to get wasted and watch you ditch me to go grind up on some beefcake, dude.”

“Come on, Charlie.” His voice had taken on a pleading edge, which normally he would have been too embarrassed to slip into, but he was desperate.

“No! Just take out Carmen again, why do you even need me?”

So, frustrated, Mac hung up. He rung up Carmen’s place instead, although he highly doubted she would be around. Past nine p.m., she was guaranteed to be busy in some way or another.

“Hey, Carmen and Mandy’s place,” the voice said when she picked up; Carmen’s roommate must have gotten to the phone first, then. “Who is this?”

“Hey, Mands,” said Mac. “Is Carmen home?”

“Oh, hey Mac.” Mandy sounded busy; Mac could hear pots clanking around on her end of the call. “Carmen’s out with Tina tonight. And I’m kind of in the middle of cooking for my own date, so I –”

“Wait. Mandy, hold up,” said Mac. “I really need to get out of the house. Do you know where she is?”

Mandy sighed. “You want me to let you crash her date and totally cockblock her just because you’re going through a crisis or whatever it is this week?”

“Mandy,” he complained. “You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“You totally would,” Mandy said. Mac bit his lip, hopeful, and after a few seconds, Mandy sighed. “Alright, listen. She’s down at Tavern. So help me, you had better act like you just ran into her there. Don’t you dare drag me into it.”

“You’re the best,” Mac said quickly. “Good luck getting laid.”

“Yeah, yeah. I –”

Mac hung up before she could finish, flying to get dressed so he could escape the apartment and start drinking as soon as possible. He threw on an old jersey that was cropped around his ribs and a pair of relatively tight sweatpants, then decided it was way too hot for that. He dug through his drawers, looking for any pair of shorts that would look good with his t-shirt, but unless he wanted to strut around in the hot pants he wore to Pride last year, it just wasn’t happening.

With a sigh he dug out a regular pair of shorts instead, dark blue and a little shorter than most straight men’s. Nobody but other gay people ever noticed, though.

He made a beeline for the fridge once he had settled on something to wear. Tavern was across town, and his head had been buzzing all week; he wanted something to take the edge off, just a little before he walked all the way to the bar.

Bad move. He was swigging out of the bottle from the freezer when he heard Dennis’s bedroom door open, and then Mac swallowed and lowered the vodka and saw Dennis standing there in his pajamas, watching him with an amused expression.

“Going out somewhere?” he asked, sounding mild.

Mac swallowed. “Uh, yeah. I thought I’d go to the bar. Get out of the house since I’m not working tonight, and blow off some steam.”

Dennis shifted his weight. His eyes flicked down and his next words were directed in the region of Mac’s exposed midriff.

“Oh. Well, okay. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed, and I –”

“Oh,” Mac interrupted loudly. “I kind of thought…well, I sort of wanted to go out alone.”

Dennis blinked at him. For a long, uncomfortable progression of moments, they just stared at each other.

“Why?” Dennis said at last. “Are you meeting up with someone else? A date or something?”

“No,” Mac said quickly.

The chance of Dennis hearing from a mutual friend that Carmen had been spotted getting cozy with someone else was too great for Mac to lie and say he was meeting her; inventing a girl would only invite more questions about where Mac had met her and why he hadn’t mentioned her yet, and Mac wasn’t that quick on his feet.

“So you just want to go to the bar…alone,” Dennis said.

Mac put the bottle down on the counter. “Yep.”

Dennis just stared at him. Growing antsy, Mac busied himself drinking more vodka, screwing the cap back on, and thrusting it back inside the freezer. Without looking at the accusatory expression on Dennis’s face, Mac brushed past him and went to gather his keys and ID. Dennis was still just standing in the kitchen, watching Mac with his arms crossed, when Mac came back into the living room.

“I’ll see you when you get back, then,” he said stiffly.

“Cool,” said Mac, not looking at him as he made a beeline for the door. “Have fun tonight, Den.”

“You too,” said Dennis. He sounded furious.

It didn’t make _sense_ , Mac thought as he got out onto the street, warm blasts of summer air hitting his face. It was somehow even hotter out here than in the apartment, which Mac hadn’t thought remotely possible. But Dennis went out without him all the time, returning at odd hours of the night to regale him with tales of his latest conquest or a funny story of some drunk asshole he had seen at the bar, and there wasn’t any reason for him to be angry that Mac was going out alone.

 

It was late when Mac finally got back to his place, nearly five in the morning. He eased the door closed, cautious of Dennis sleeping; his bedroom door was cracked open, and he would absolutely get up and complain if Mac made too much noise. He carefully toed out of his shoes and made his way to his own room, only stumbling a few times from the combination of drunkenness and the dark. Finally he felt his way blind to his bed, and he collapsed onto it. He fell asleep nearly as soon as his cheek hit his pillow.

When he awoke, the light coming in from his window was bright; rolling over, his alarm clock flashed that it was around noon. Mac rolled back over, covering his face with his pillow and groaning into it. His head ached with every movement.

Careful not to jostle his skull too much, Mac’s feet found the floor, and he padded over to his dresser to pull on something that didn’t reek so plainly of alcohol and other men’s colognes before he went out into the living room. He changed swiftly into a comfortable, cotton t-shirt that he had cut the sleeves from, and a pair of underwear that could only be considered moderately more conservative than the ones that Dennis had been complaining about all week. At last, Mac made his way out of his room to go find the Advil in the kitchen. He paused when he reached his door, a voice filtering back to him – Dennis was talking to someone in the living room. About _him_.

“He was out all night, probably hooking up with other people,” Dennis groused. Mac’s brow furrowed in confusion. After a moment, Dennis said, “Yeah, yeah. I didn’t even go to sleep until like, four a.m., and he still wasn’t back. Well, _no_ …”

He fell silent for a moment, grunting to whoever he was talking to. Mac gathered that he was on the phone.

“Not Carmen? That’s…so he’s just meeting _other people_ in bars, not even a chick. Just going out to hang with _strangers_. And he doesn’t want me to fucking come. That’s great. Fucking…fantastic.”

Mac looked around his room for something to make noise with so he could indicate that he was awake. He wasn’t about to just walk out there now. Eventually he crossed to his bathroom, Dennis’s mutterings fading to a dim blur as he got further away. He flushed the toilet, just to announce that he was awake; still, he paused in his doorway to make sure the coast was clear before he eased open the door.

Dennis was sprawled out on the couch, still with the phone pressed to his ear. They barely glanced at each other, save for Mac to raise an eyebrow at him in question. Mac went into the kitchen to find the Advil at last, and he caught the tail end of their conversation.

“Yes, I’ll pick you up something to eat before work. No, I’m not buying…Fine, God, I’ll get us coffee. You’re such a bitch. I’ll see you later, bye.”

Mac downed a couple of pills with his coffee and meandered back into the living room. He dropped down into the chair beside the couch, considering how Dennis was still stretched out taking up the whole thing.

“Who was that?” Mac asked innocently.

Dennis barely glanced at him. “Dee,” he said, and his tone was so neutral that Mac probably wouldn’t have suspected anything, except he had heard all of it from just behind his bedroom door. He probably shouldn’t jump to conclusions about conversations that he had eavesdropped on half of, but he couldn’t stop his mind from racing. Dennis certainly wasn’t _acting_ mad at him, despite the way he had glared as Mac had fled the apartment last night, and how he had sounded with Dee on the phone just now.

“You have glitter in your hair,” Dennis said absently. “What did you do, bang a go-go girl?”

Close enough. He’d given a handjob to some guy who was dancing on the top of the bar at the Rainbow, actually, but what was the real difference in this situation.

“Something like that,” Mac grumbled.

“You seem pissy for someone who got laid _and_ stayed out so late last night. What time did you come in, anyway?”

“I don’t know. Five?” Mac guessed. “Whatever, sorry. I’m just tired. And it’s hot. I just want to have an easy day.

“I’m not stopping you,” Dennis said, a little over the line between teasing and mean. Mac stared, but he seemed very preoccupied with whatever text he was sending off and didn’t meet his eyes.

Mac sipped his coffee. Dennis ignored him for five whole minutes before he looked up.

“Dude, should we get brunch?”

Mac closed his eyes, his head falling back on the chair. “Dude. _Yes_.”

 

The week passed like that: Mac worked long hours and he barely showered, let alone took more care than that. Dennis was tetchy whenever Mac left the apartment to do anything but go to work or get groceries, but he acted like he didn’t know what Mac was talking about whenever he chanced to bring it up.

Mac bumped into Rex at the gym on Thursday and invited him out for drinks the next night. Rex said yes.

Friday around eight, Mac strolled out of his room. Dennis looked up from where he was sprawled on the couch texting; he also had a date tonight, although he didn’t seem nearly as concerned about looking good for his girl as Mac was about Rex. After showering Dennis had thrown on one of his mint-grin button-ups and a pair of dark jeans, and he looked good, but it wasn’t anything particularly special.

“Which shirt?” Mac said, holding up two options.

“Christ, Mac, you’re just having a boys’ night with Rex. Why the fuck does it matter what you wear?” He had already returned to his phone. “Are you planning on wearing pants with that shirt?”

Mac rolled his eyes. The urge to say that he wouldn’t be wearing them long anyway was overwhelming.

“I need to know what shirt I’m wearing before I can pick pants, dude,” he said instead.

“The one of the left, then,” Dennis said, still not looking up from his phone.

Mac waited for him to actually look before making a decision, but when he didn’t, he sighed and returned to his room get dressed. He ended up scrapping the two choices completely and threw on one of his slogan t-shirts that Dennis always made fun of. They were just going to shoot some pool and get beer, so he didn’t have to try so hard. For good measure, though, he spritzed on some cologne before he left his room.

“How long before you have to jet?” asked Dennis. He seemed to have finished texting, because his phone was on the coffee table face-down and he was sprawled out with his arms spread along the back of the couch, watching some show on TV.

“Half an hour, maybe?” said Mac.

He flung himself down on the couch. Dennis shifted his arm slightly to stop it from touching Mac’s shoulder, but it still hovered nearby. He shifted apart from Mac, turning to face him, his nose scrunching.

“You wearing cologne, man?” said Dennis.

Mac raised his eyebrows. “Yeah. What, is it too much?”

“I’m just – No, no, it’s not bad,” he answered quickly. “You…It smells really good.”

“Okay,” said Mac. “Uh, thanks.”

He looked back to the TV. He could still feel Dennis’s eyes on him, though, and after a second Mac turned toward him again. Dennis’s gaze slid slowly back up toward Mac’s face.

“What?” said Mac.

“Nothing,” said Dennis. His eyes slid over Mac’s cheek and landed somewhere in the region of one of his bicep tattoos. “No sleeves?”

“It’s not a date, man,” Mac lied, looking back at the TV. “We’re just meeting up to play some pool and get hammered.”

And fuck in the bathroom, he added mentally.

Dennis’s arms disappeared from around the back of the couch. Suddenly he was leaning in, not that much, but enough that Mac noticed the change in distance.

“You still never shaved,” he noted.

Mac swallowed. He was not going to turn and look at him, he wasn’t.

“Does it matter?” he asked.

“Maybe Rex likes it like that,” Dennis said slowly. Mac’s heart slowed down so much that he was tempted to reach up and check his pulse to make sure it was still beating. Dennis said, “That’s the point of a date, right? To look good for the other person?”

“It’s not a –”

“Isn’t it, Mac?” Dennis’s eyes were boring into the side of Mac’s face so hard that he finally looked over and met his eye, unable to do anything but give in to the sharp insistence of that gaze. Dennis was treacherously close now, so Mac’s nose almost bumped his when he turned, before he reared back. “Isn’t it a date?”

Mac’s heart restarted finally, only to immediately jump up to twice its regular speed.

“I –”

Dennis grabbed Mac by the collar of his shirt and kissed him hard. Mac, frozen in his seat, did nothing – or rather, he kept his hands to himself, but he still closed his eyes and let himself be kissed. After a few seconds, Dennis pulled back. He hovered close, eyes darting between Mac’s.

“What…” Mac blinked hard, his mind racing. “What was that?”

“I like you.” Dennis was panting. “Aren’t you gay?”

Mac’s eyes were glued to Dennis’s mouth. “Yeah.”

“And I told you I was going to fuck you if you kept getting hotter. Right?”

Mac’s mouth felt completely dry. “You were serious about that?” he said.

Dennis smirked. “Not the part about topping.”

Mac laughed despite himself, sudden and shocking. He finally unfroze enough to put his hands on Dennis, and he curled his fingers into the hem of his shirt and tugged, pulling him ever so slightly closer.

“I didn’t know you were…”

“God, Mac,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “We don’t have to talk about every little fucking thing.”

“Just making sure you weren’t gonna get squeamish on me and declare you were straight,” said Mac.

“Don’t make me think too hard about this,” said Dennis, his forehead creasing, his mouth twisting down. “I want you. Alright? And it’s not like it’s my first time…Look. Can you distract me now before my thoughts start –”

Mac leaned in and kissed him again. Dennis slid his hand around the side of Mac’s neck, his thumb stroking against his jaw. Mac slipped his arms around Dennis’s waist and pulled him closer. Clumsily, Dennis leveraged his way into Mac’s lap – it involved a lot of kneeing him in the sensitive parts of his thighs and their kissing growing messy and somewhat painful, but at last they maneuvered it. Dennis cradled Mac’s face in between his hands, pressing their mouths together again and again. Mac crept his hands across Dennis’s back over his t-shirt.

Dennis pulled away from him to deftly unbutton his shirt and tug it off his shoulders and to the floor. He stripped off his undershirt too. Mac grabbed him by the waist and turned them around until Dennis was being pressed into the couch cushions, and Mac covered his body with his own and slipped his tongue in beside Dennis’s.

Dennis curled his fingers through Mac’s hair and tugged slightly. Mac caught his lower lip between his teeth and pulled, then pressed his tongue against where his teeth had just dug into the skin.

Dennis pulled away only to tuck his face into Mac’s neck. He pulled his head back by the hair, and Mac choked out a gruff noise. He could feel Dennis’s teeth; he must have been smiling against his skin. Dennis’s tongue licked repeatedly over a small stripe on his neck, and then he fitted his lips around the wet patch and sucked hard.

Mac pulled away.

“Don’t,” he said. He cast around for an answer. “We’re not…I don’t want…people to ask questions.”

Dennis eyed him curiously. At last, he seemed to decide against inquiring about it, because he cradled the back of Mac’s head in his hand brought their mouths gently back together.

Mac resettled in between his legs. Dennis spread his thighs further and propped up his knees, cradling his hips in between them. Mac reached down, fingering the zip on his jeans, and Dennis arched his hips toward his hand like he was helpless against doing otherwise. Smiling against his mouth, Mac swiftly undid them and inched his fingers as far down as they could go beneath the waistband. From where he was lying, that wasn’t very far.

“Just –” He pulled his mouth away from Dennis’s, looking down between them as he struggled with getting them off over his hips. “Can you help –”

Dennis was obviously more interested in helping himself than Mac; he pulled on the hem of Mac’s t-shirt until Mac sat up far enough to allow Dennis to tug it over his head, and it joined Dennis’s beside them on the floor. Dennis spread his hand across the bare skin, his nails digging in on Mac’s chest.

“I’m going to flip the fuck out if you don’t get undressed,” Mac breathed.

Dennis shoved him roughly back until he was sitting up between his spread legs. Mac sat there, breathing hard, while Dennis laid back down and pushed his jeans down his thighs.

“Jesus Christ, _let me_ ,” Mac said, sliding off the couch and down to the floor on his knees.

Dennis pushed himself up, and Mac tugged him around by his legs until he was settled in between them, Dennis still sprawled out on the couch. Mac paused, fingers hovering around Dennis’s waist.

“Can I?” he asked, looking up at him.

He knew how Dennis would take it – Mac kneeling between his spread thighs, mouth red from kissing, asking to get him naked. Dennis would take it as begging. Frankly, Mac didn’t care _what_ he called it. Just so long as he let Mac get his hands all over that flushed, hot skin.

But Dennis was panting too, and he only looked halfway to smug when he said, “Yeah, do it,” and used his hands to leverage his ass off the couch so Mac could pull all of his bottom layers off and throw them into the corner. No sense keeping them around.

Dennis leaned down to kiss him hard, but it only lasted a second before Mac shoved him roughly back toward the couch cushions. Dennis collapsed there. Mac ducked his face down and pressed his lips to the soft part of Dennis’s inner thigh, right up against the pressure point that Dennis had accidentally kneed Mac in earlier. Under his mouth, Dennis shivered.

Mac looked up at him, one corner of his lips curling up toward a smile. Dennis was watching him, gaze dark and eyes hooded, but honestly Mac couldn’t imagine that the view from there was anything like his own. Dennis, spread out naked on the couch. Dennis, lithely graceful body arching toward Mac’s hands, toward Mac’s mouth, toward Mac’s own body. Dennis, with his hard, flushed-pink cock curving up toward his belly and indicating better than anything else that he was really here, waiting for Mac to ravish him.

And by God, did Mac plan to ravish him.

Mac slid his hands up the sides of Dennis’s legs until he hit his hips, and then he scratched them roughly back down. Dennis sighed, and his hand reached out but didn’t land on anything; it scrabbled against Mac’s shoulder, and Mac lifted it to his mouth and pressed an open-mouth kiss to it before leveraging up until his face was hovering above Dennis’s lap.

Mac grabbed a hold of his dick and stroked lightly, a few pumps of his fist that would do nothing real except take the edge off. His own hips pressed forward – instinctively, useless, and he was still trapped in his own pants anyway. Dennis’s fingers combed through Mac’s hair and stroked through the strands, mussing it up, making it stick out all over. Mac leaned down and took the head of his cock into his mouth, sucking only lightly at first. Dennis was sensitive, though – moaning immediately and jerking his hips up toward Mac’s face.

“Oh my _god_.” The words sounded punched out of him.

Mac didn’t care about the slight ache in the stretch of his mouth, even when his dick hit the back of his throat (and it would have been uncomfortable, if Mac wasn’t used to it). If he was making Dennis feel good, that’s all he was really focused on.

Hollowing out his cheeks, he bent down even closer to his thighs, sucking until Dennis’s moans were closer to cries. His hand tightened inexorably hard in Mac’s hair. Mac bobbed his head willingly, taking more and more of him in, relaxing his throat through practice and will. The groan that reverberated through Dennis’s entire body sent shocks of thrill all along Mac’s nerve endings. He dug his fingertips into Dennis’s waist when Dennis’s hips jerked up, and after that Dennis was good, for the most part, keeping his hips still while Mac set the pace, his mouth sliding up and down, over and over.

Deepthroating was one of the things Mac was best at in bed. With a thick moan from his own chest, he breathed in through his nose and worked his throat around Dennis’s cock. Dennis’s hips jerked helplessly before Mac pulled off, licking his lips to wet them before he went up and down his shaft again instead. He knew every time Dennis wanted to rock his hips against Mac’s face, because his breathing grew shallow and fast, gasps swirling up toward the ceiling. Mac pulled off when he made those sounds, feathering more open-mouthed kisses to the soft insides of his thighs, sometimes turning the presses of his mouth to gentle bites, or harshly sucking at the sensitive skin until Dennis strained toward him again, and Mac took his cock back in his mouth. Dennis didn’t seem to have the same reservations about hickeys, but maybe that was just because they were on his thighs and would be easily covered.

Helplessly, his own hips plunged forward. He undid his zipped pants with the hand not jerking off what wasn’t in his mouth and shoved it down to his knees along with his underwear, and he took a hold of himself. He looked up in time to see Dennis look down; Dennis groaned, seemingly at the sight of him. His cock jammed deeper down Mac’s throat when his hips jerked, but Mac didn’t gag around him – just bobbed his head obligingly and took him in, aching to get him off. He just squeezed his own dick, something to hold himself off, but didn’t pull on it at all.

Dennis looked fucking _pretty_ , legs spread where he was sprawled out on the couch. His hands scrabbled at Mac’s shoulders, at his hair, at his back. Mac wanted to ruin straight sex for him, forever, if the thought ever dared to cross Dennis’s mind. Dennis hadn’t wanted to think too hard about this but Mac didn’t plan on letting him forget it.

Mac already felt ruined himself, tonguing at his slit before wrapping his lips firmly around the head and going back down, hearing Dennis moan out his name.

“Fuck me,” Dennis gasped, dragging a thumb across Mac’s lips, stretched around his hard cock, “Fuck me, do whatever you want –”

Mac’s hand was practiced. He pulled his mouth off so he could lick his palm, then cupped Dennis’s balls in his hand and rolled them as he sucked him off, squeezing whenever Dennis seemed to gasp too hard and too fast. He tugged on them and then dragged his fingertips down to Dennis’s hole, where he teased it mercilessly, dragging a blunt nail across the rim and then licking a fingerprint just to press it inside him, slowly and not too overwhelming. Every time, Dennis gasped like he was running out of air. Mac lapped at the slit of his cock, sucking off the precome pooling there with a swirl of his tongue.

Dennis gasped. Hearing him shake toward the edge was better than any other noise Mac could have heard, but he wasn’t going to let him get all the way there yet.

“Tell me how you want me,” Dennis said. Somehow it was equally a command as it was a plea.

Obediently, Mac removed his mouth from his cock, although he couldn’t resist pressing his lips to his waistline, to the bottom of the jut of his ribs, to his collar as he kissed his way upwards. His hand found of one of Dennis’s and squeezed.

“I want you,” Mac breathed, lips an inch away from Dennis’s. He didn’t elaborate where.

“Jesus, fuck. That’s not what I mean.”

He pulled Mac back into a kiss in nearly the same breath that he finished speaking. Mac’s tongue snaked between his teeth until he was pushing the taste of him back into his own mouth. His fingers tightened hard in Mac’s hair, making his grip painful, but that’s what Mac liked about it anyway. Mac grabbed a thick handful of his ass as he pulled himself up onto the couch with his other hand, until he was straddling Dennis again on the cushions. Dennis nearly tackled him in his apparent need to get Mac onto his back.

“Touch me,” he breathed against Mac’s lips, and Mac was only too happy to oblige.

He grabbed Dennis’s ass hard as they slid further into the couch. Dennis fought with Mac’s pants, trapped around his knees, until they fell to the ground, and then his lips were on Mac’s Adam’s apple, on his jaw, on the corner of his mouth.

“Give me a second,” Dennis said, “I know I have something somewhere –”

Yeah, Dennis was a slut. The both of them were, honestly. Mac found it hard to care when Dennis only had to dig around in the end table for a second before he came up with lube, and he pressed it into Mac’s hand and then went back down to attack his neck in wet presses of his mouth. Mac tried three times to uncap the bottle before he could manage it, his attention firmly elsewhere. Dennis’s teeth scraped against his stubbled jaw, and his hands were shaking.

Finally he managed to open the bottle. Dennis wrapped his fingers around Mac’s wrist to still him.

“Hold on. Bedroom,” he said, leveraging off the couch. He didn’t let go of Mac’s arm, dragging him with him.

They fell tangled onto Dennis’s bed, kissing and pulling at each other’s thighs and rolling around until Dennis settled with his legs slung loosely around Mac’s waist. Mac reached down, spread Dennis open with one hand, and pressed a finger up against his rim with the other.

Dennis’s legs spread further as he sunk into the mattress. One of his heels was digging into Mac’s ass. Mac grinned and swooped down to kiss him loosely as he pressed his finger fully inside him.

Dennis keened against his mouth, but he was holding Mac firmly by the shoulders, keeping him from moving if the thought should strike. Dennis had said that he’d done this before, but Mac didn’t know how long it had been for him, so he worked his finger slowly, just loosening him for now. There would be time to work on finding that blinding pleasure later.

Dennis was kissing him openly, one hand pressed to his cheek to help maneuver him around. Mac let him, focused instead on opening him enough to press a second slick finger inside him. Dennis moaned, low and rumbling, and his nails dug into the top of Mac’s spine.

“Are you alright?” Mac panted against his slack mouth.

Dennis’s eyes had been squeezed shut, but he opened them now. He pressed a quick, reassuring kiss to Mac’s mouth and nodded intently.

“I’m good, I’m good. Do more. Keep going.”

But Mac knew how the third one could burn if it had been a long time, regardless of how ready you thought you were. He ducked to wrap his lips around one of his nipples and sucked, tongue flicking out to tease it more. Dennis’s fingers clenched in his hair and Mac pressed the third finger inside him.

Dennis was panting harder now, tugging on Mac’s hair to bring his mouth back to his. Mac went, his free hand slipping up his chest, thumb catching on the red, pert nipple and making another groan wrack through him. Mac did it again, circling his thumb and occasionally nicking his nail against it. After a couple minutes of this, he paused in fingering him and pulled their mouths apart.

“Are you ready?” he whispered.

Dennis’s eyes were glazed over in want, his mouth was red from kissing. He nodded.

“Yeah, Mac,” he said, hooking his ankles loosely around the back of Mac’s thighs. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Mac rested one hand on Dennis’s chest for leverage as he raised himself up, and with his other he reached down and guided himself into Dennis.

The sound Dennis let out then was something that Mac could only possibly classify as a whine, maybe a keen if he was being generous, but he knew Dennis would absolutely kill him (and he would probably be justified) if he said that out loud so he kept the thought firmly tucked away. Instead he focused on pressing his hips forward until they were completely locked together, and it was only then that he let out the breath he had been holding.

“Holy shit,” Dennis breathed. His eyes were blown wide open, and his iris was mostly pupil – he fumbled for Mac’s hand and squeezed when he found it.

“I’m gonna go for it,” Mac said after a moment. He felt like all the air in his lungs was trapped in his throat and he couldn’t breathe, he could barely speak. He managed to grind out, “…okay?”

Dennis nodded helplessly. He combed his fingers through Mac’s sweaty hair, lightly at first and then tugging him down to get his mouth back on his own. Mac pulled his hips back and then snapped back fully inside of him. Dennis’s tongue was hot and demanding on his as he found his rhythm, knocking Dennis’s bed over and over into the wall. Dennis didn’t seem fussed about the neighbors, sinking his nails deep into Mac’s back and tilting his hips up to meet him when he slammed back in.

Dennis caught Mac’s chin between his fingers and held him still. Mac thought he was going to kiss him again but instead he pressed his lips to Mac’s neck, wet and hot and Mac’s hips jerked and stuttered. Dennis grinned against his throat.

“Well, don’t stop on my account,” he said lowly. He kissed the skin beneath his mouth again, once, twice. “Come on.”

He let go of Mac’s chin and grabbed a handful of his ass instead, pulling him back in. Mac groaned and picked his rhythm back up. Dennis’s other hand roamed, across his sweat-slicked back and over his chest and up to grip tightly in his hair, but his other held fast to Mac’s ass. He squeezed whenever Mac did something he particularly liked.

The position grew tiring. Mac pulled out, sat back on his knees, pulled Dennis closer by the hips until he was half-propped in Mac’s lap. He slammed back inside him; Dennis seemed to like the new angle, his throat working as he gulped in air, his hands roaming above his head in search of a bedpost that they never encountered. He reached for Mac instead, who complied by leaning over him, and Dennis grabbed for his shoulders. Mac’s hands were on Dennis’s thighs, fingertips running across them and keeping them anchored close around his waist.

Dennis tugged him down until their faces were close together. It was an awkward position for Mac, his back bent over to keep up the same angle that Dennis seemed to like, but he ignored the slight ache because Dennis looked thrilled to have him so close, electricity sparking between them.

“Come on, baby boy,” he whispered. He leaned up to brush his lips lightly along Mac’s jaw. “Are you gonna fuck me like you mean it or what?”

Mac’s eyes narrowed. He shifted around until he could easily pull out and slam back inside him, much faster and rougher than before. He knew the moment he found Dennis’s sweet spot – he had his face tucked into Mac’s neck, tonguing languidly across his throat, but the second that blinding pleasure hit he bit down so roughly that Mac thought he might draw blood. He drove his next few thrusts against the same spot, then eased off. Only then did Dennis unsink his teeth and fall back, panting, onto the pillows.

“Don’t stop,” he urged, hands finding Mac’s arms and squeezing. “God, yeah.”

Mac was focused on what he was doing and wasn’t listening. His hands found Dennis’s wrists and pinned them down on either side of his head. Dennis’s back arched in an effort to get closer, and Mac ducked down to feather kisses across his cheeks, his jaw, his neck and collar and back up to his mouth. Dennis kissed back hard; most of his other movements were restricted but this, he could do. Mac freed one of his hands and Dennis fisted it in his hair and kept him anchored close so he could deepen the kiss.

Their mouths slid together, nothing like the same rhythm of Mac’s thrusting inside of him, but it didn’t matter. Dennis was still controlling most of the kissing and he pulled Mac this way and that, tongue darting out to tease at his lips before he pulled away, and again, and again. Every now and then, a particularly hard thrust jolted him up closer to the headboard, and their lips slid together properly. As soon as he resettled Dennis would pull away and go back to teasing him.

“Stop it,” Mac said, smiling. He tilted closer and barely touched their lips together. Dennis rolled his eyes.

“Make me,” Dennis breathed.

Mac pressed himself down fully on Dennis. His hips stilled as he focused on leaning down to lick his way into Dennis’s mouth, tongue pressing up against Dennis’s and then rolling across the roof of his mouth. Dennis moaned, sucking on his tongue like he had never tasted anything sweeter. Mac pulled away to bite gently down on his lower lip and then soothed it over with soft licks against the same spot. Dennis’s arms wound around his neck, keeping their chests crushed together.

Mac slid his hands down his sides and then back up, warm, soft touches that had Dennis whispering his name like he didn’t even notice he was doing it. His thumbs rubbed soft circles against Dennis’s ribs.

Mac pressed his open mouth to the side of Dennis’s neck, leaving warm, shallow kisses everywhere he trailed his lips. Any time Dennis seemed to relax too much in his arms, he pulled skin between his teeth and sucked hard, making the blood rush up toward the surface in a sharp bruise. Dennis’s muscles all tightened whenever he did that, and Mac squirmed; still inside him, the sudden clenching of his entire body made him shake and nearly forget the slow undoing of he was busy with, how he was making Dennis forget everything but Mac’s name.

Dennis put his palms to each of Mac’s cheeks and pulled him back into a slow, hot rolling of their tongues together. Mac anchored himself back down on his forearms and pressed all the heat and weight of his body down on Dennis.

When Mac pulled away finally, he drew his bottom lip between his teeth and let it stretch and then snap back into place. Dennis, when he opened his eyes, was looking up at him with a soft, hooded gaze. His hand played with Mac’s hair.

Even pushing back to breathe, Mac still stayed close. They looked at each other for a moment, and then he couldn’t help himself – he wanted his mouth back on him. He pulled Dennis’s top lip between both his own and sucked gently, then did the same to his other one; Dennis wrapped his legs more tightly around Mac’s waist, and it jolted his dick again since it was still inside him. Mac paused to inhale sharply as the resulting cold shiver wracked down his spine, and Dennis was shaking minutely too. When it passed, Mac leaned to press softer, shallower kisses to his mouth. Dennis hummed against his lips.

“Thought you were gonna make me scream,” he murmured. Mac pet down his sides again, slowly, rhythmic and gentle.

Mac smiled against his mouth. “You want me to make you scream?”

Dennis nodded, slow and sure. “Yeah, I do.”

Without warning, Mac pulled out and slammed all the way back in. A broken groan fell from Dennis’s lips, but he just lay there, hands alternately tightening and relaxing as they strayed over Mac’s bare body, enjoying it all. Mac set up a harder, faster pace than the one he had settled into before. Now the bed was consistently loud as it squeaked and smashed against the wall. Dennis was louder though, letting out broken little noises every time Mac thrusted hard back inside him. When again Mac found his sweet spot, his arms fell beside him on the bed and he all-out yelled.

“Right fucking there,” he chanted, “right there, Mac –”

Mac pressed his forehead to Dennis’s sweat-slicked collarbone and listened to him. The pace was relentlessly fast, but the muscles in Dennis’s thighs were tautening the longer he kept up the hard strokes inside him and soon he was biting down hard on the meat of Mac’s shoulder, trying to shush himself. Regardless of the barrier, tiny whines and moans were escaping him, fluttering out into open air. Mac didn’t let up, fucking hard and fast into that same spot inside him. He reached down between them and took Dennis’s cock in his hand, wasting no time – Dennis was already shuddering against him, and he jerked him off quickly, trying to time it out to the same rhythm that he was thrusting up inside him to as best he could. Dennis’s nails sunk into his back and dragged down, hard.

“Fuck,” he chanted, “fuck, fuck —”

“Are you close?” Mac whispered, lips landing somewhere near his jaw. “Are you gonna –?”

“I’m – Mac –”

Dennis leaned up and his lips found a spot on his neck near where he had bitten him earlier. Mac kept at what he was doing, his hand moving on Dennis’s dick as his own cock thrust into him over and over again. Finally Dennis’s chest arched up toward him as his back bowed, and he came hard, shooting ropes of come over Mac’s fist and onto both of their chests.

Mac slowed down the speed of his hips, angling away from his prostate so that he didn’t overstimulate him. When Dennis lay still, spread out and panting against the sheets, Mac paused entirely – well, almost entirely. He couldn’t quite help himself from jerking his hips nearly-imperceptibly now and again, when the tight heat of him got to be too much to bear.

Dennis was breathing hard. Mac pressed kisses all along his throat and up to the corner of his mouth.

“I can stop,” he whispered. “Whatever you want me to do –”

The first move Dennis made, after, was to grab at Mac’s ass and pull him back in deeper. They both groaned, bodies coming together. Dennis’s lips were somewhere near Mac’s jaw.

“Don’t,” he grunted out. “Come, baby. Come inside me.”

Mac groaned, head dipping forward helplessly. He dragged his lips against Dennis’s collarbone as his hips started up the same rhythm as before. Now, the difference was that he didn’t care about being precise, and he fucked forward into him relentlessly, chasing after his own release and barely thinking about anything else except Dennis’s hands on his back and his mouth underneath him. Every now and again their faces would align and their lips would brush. Dennis grabbed hard everywhere he could reach and encouraged him on. Mac was only focused on thrusting in, and out, and avoiding the spot inside him that would overstimulate him too badly.

Dennis whispered shit like, “Come on, baby,” and “I want you, I want you to fucking ruin me –” and Mac groaned and buried his face in Dennis’s neck. He was warm there, salt-tinged and tasting exactly like that undefinable scent of his skin that he carried underneath all the soap and cologne he wore.

“I’m gonna – I’m gonna –” Mac said, and Dennis breathed, “ _Yeah_.”

Dennis gripped him tight, arms squeezing around Mac’s back. Mac pressed inside him one more time and came hard, hips stuttering and then pressing up as far as they could go. His vision blurred out completely, and all he was aware of was the waves of pleasure coming over him.

The next thing he fully understood was Dennis’s lips, pressing gently across his cheekbones, and his forehead, and across his parted mouth. Mac kissed back softly, automatically.

Dennis pulled him closer and deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping easily past Mac’s teeth like they had been doing this all along. Mac breathed and kissed him and breathed.

His heartrate took a long time to return to normal. He kissed Dennis more firmly as he pulled out as gently as he could, but Dennis still made a quiet sound of discomfort. Mac kissed him until his muscles relaxed, and Dennis wound his arms back around him. He pressed him into his mattress and let his mind wander, his breathing steadying as he let other thoughts beside _Dennis, Dennis_ return at their own pace.

When Mac finally pulled away, wiping spit off his chin, he caught a glance at the clock on Dennis’s bedside table. He slid off of Dennis and to his feet.

“Holy shit, is that the time?” he asked. Panicked, he hurried back out into the living room and plucked his shirt off the floor and tugged it back down over his head; it was inside out. He pulled it off and redid it. “Shit, I’m late.”

Mac could see him through the open doorway; Dennis stretched languidly out across the bed. He didn’t seem quite so bothered about getting dressed again, a fact that had Mac nervously averting his eyes. He didn’t have time to climb back on top of him, not right now.

“Late for what?” Dennis called. He sounded heavily disinterested in whatever plans were pulling Mac out of the apartment right now.

“To meet Rex,” he explained quickly, now doing up his pants. “I’m already five minutes late and it’s a fifteen minute walk.”

This, at last, made Dennis push himself up with one arm. His expression was unreadable.

“You’re still going on your date?” he asked.

Mac barely glanced at him as he went over to the mirror hanging on one of the walls and made sure he didn’t look too obviously like he just got fucked. His attention snagged on a huge red hickey on his neck, and he cursed and ducked back into Dennis’s room, past his bed and into his bathroom. It wasn’t that he was worried about Rex noticing signs that Mac had been with other men, since they were both always going around with other people – they had been on a double date before, even. It was more that it was just bad etiquette to show up to a date with a hickey that was clearly less than an hour old, and Mac wasn’t about to do anything to spoil a shot with Rex. There wasn’t much between his ears, but there was _plenty_ between his legs.

“What are you doing?” Dennis called.

Mac went back out into the living room and started slathering some of Dennis’s cover-up on his neck. Dennis trailed behind him out of his bedroom.

“That’s not even your color,” Dennis snapped. He came closer and snatched it out of Mac’s hands, only to disappear back into his room for a minute before reemerging with several makeup products in hand. “Let me do it.”

Mac stayed obediently still in front of him while Dennis wiped off what Mac had already used and then unscrewed the top off a jar of thick green liquid. He studied Dennis’s face while he worked. He was cute, his tongue poking out a little in concentration as he blended the green goop and then leaned down. Mac startled when he felt Dennis’s cool breath on his neck.

“Relax,” Dennis said, leaning back – but close, still way too close. His voice was pitched low, and his smile was easy. Mac swallowed. “I’m just helping it dry faster, or else it will mix with the cover-up and the color will be off.”

Mac had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. He was kind of busy staring at his lips.

Dennis wiped some of the green stuff off on his own thigh and then undid the top of a different container, a similarly liquid-y substance as the green thing except it was the color of Mac’s face. Mac wasn’t entirely sure that Dennis needed to be _quite_ that close to smear makeup on his throat. He also wasn’t entirely sure that he hated it.

“Good as new,” Dennis breathed a moment later.

He stepped back so Mac could have a look in the mirror, sliding his arm around Mac’s shoulders as he did it. Mac _was_ looking in the reflection, but not at himself – Dennis was still stripped bare naked next to him, and in the glass Mac could clearly see the line of soft red marks stamping their way down his collar. His eyes darted back up to Dennis’s, which were watching him.

“Dennis…” he said softly.

Dennis said nothing. Mac turned Dennis around by both shoulders and kissed him hard.

His palm slid up to cup Dennis’s cheek. Dennis caught Mac’s hips in his hands and pulled their bodies tightly together. The kiss deepened; Mac grabbed at him, clutched at him so forcefully that his nails dug hard into his bare back.

“Don’t go on your date,” Dennis said. It came out in a mumble with his lips pressed against Mac’s neck; besides that, just knowing Dennis as a person made Mac unsure that he had heard right, because he didn’t often ask for things. But then Dennis’s hands slid into his back pockets and he squeezed. “Stay here…with me…I can keep you up…just as late…as you planned on staying out anyway…”

In between words, he pressed warm kisses all across Mac’s throat. He leaned up to nibble on his ear lobe, waiting for an answer.

“But I’m…”

Mac forgot what he was saying almost as fast as it was coming out of his mouth. Dennis’s deft fingers were on Mac’s pants again, undoing the button and zip. He pressed his lips against the underside of Mac’s jaw, thus making his next protest gust away like paper.

“Mac,” and he somehow made the single syllable sound both sing-songy and drawn out. “Blow Rex off.”

Mac chuckled. “Okay, I bet I can guess what word play you’re going with next.”

Dennis was smiling into the next kiss he pulled him into. Mac bit down on Dennis’s bottom lip and pulled it into his own mouth, sucking on it until it would probably bruise and puff up. Dennis’s tongue was hard and insistent against Mac’s right after.

For a moment when Dennis’s hands plunged into his pants again, Mac thought he was just going back to groping him. But after a second, his hands came free, and there was a glint in the corner of his eye. He glanced, when Dennis was otherwise preoccupied.

He let Dennis twirl the swiped cell phone around in his hand. And he let him throw it onto the couch. And he let him grab Mac by the belt loops and drag him backwards into Dennis’s bedroom.

 

Life went on. Dennis graduated from college. The landlord finally came after a month and fixed their air conditioner. Mac went back to wearing a less distracting amount of clothes. They kissed over breakfast and during Thunder Gun rewatches and on top of their sheets.

Mac called Rex to apologize for breaking their date, and Rex said it was fine because he had actually met a girl after Mac had stood him up and they were dating steadily now. Mac was happy for him, because staying home with Dennis that night had been entirely worth it.

Mac and Dennis kissed goodbye before Mac went to work, they kissed hello when Dennis came back from job interviews, they kissed well into the evening when neither of them had anything to do in the morning and fairly often even when they did. Their clothes got all mixed up in the laundry and Mac found himself pulling Dennis’s t-shirts out of his drawer as often as his own. It turned out that the dinner and wine Dennis sometimes set out was a timed and planned thing, and somehow Mac had fallen into a pattern of monthly dinner dates without ever even realizing it.

They drank too much, they came up with crazy ideas, they fought and made up all over the apartment.

Mac felt drunk on Dennis all summer.

 

Dennis rolled out from between Mac’s legs and fell onto his back on the floor. Mac reached out and groped around until he found his shirt, and he pulled it out from underneath the couch. He used it to wipe the sweat off of his forehead, then passed it to Dennis, who, infuriatingly, used it to wipe the come off his chest.

“Dennis!” Mac said, rolling over to bat at his arms. “Stop it! I was going to put that back on.”

“Why?” Dennis deadpanned.

Mac rolled his eyes. Dennis got up after a minute, but Mac stayed flat on his back on the living room carpet, eyes tracing the ceiling while he listened to Dennis banging cabinets in their kitchen. After a few minutes he came back out, hit the stereo to turn it onto his favorite station, and folded himself back down on the floor next to Mac. Mac looked up, and Dennis smiled and pushed a plate across the carpet towards him.

“Thought you might be hungry. Even though _I_ did all the work,” Dennis said.

Mac pushed himself up and sat facing him, grabbing greedily for the sandwich. He _was_ hungry, enough that he wasn’t even going to fight Dennis for being smug about a blowjob.

He only slowed down halfway through, when his stomach was starting to settle, and the look he then pierced Dennis with must have been so serious as to make him pause right before a bite of his own.

“What?” Dennis said, shifting uncomfortably. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Mac took another bite, chewing more slowly as he fully formulated his thought.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you about something,” he said.

“Oh God, no,” Dennis groaned. “I don’t want to –”

“How did you know I was gay?” Mac interrupted loudly.

Dennis stared blankly at him. “What?”

“Like, two months ago,” Mac said. “The first time we…you know, right before the first time we banged. You didn’t ask me. You kissed me and you said you knew I was gay.”

“So?” Dennis’s eyes were narrowing down into a glare, but very slowly. Mac still had time to veer this conversation into less hostile territory before Dennis’s mood was ruined for the whole evening.

“ _So_ ,” he pressed, “How did you know? You could have been totally wrong, but it’s like that didn’t even occur to you. You weren’t even _worried_ about me being straight. You were just worried that I wasn’t going to like you back.”

“First of all, I wasn’t _worried_ about it,” Dennis said crossly. “In what world wouldn’t you have liked me back? And as for the gay thing, well, I mean. Look at you.”

“At _me_? What the hell about me?”

Dennis started laughing. It wasn’t really a _mean_ laugh, but it still made Mac get kind of angry. It was super irrational, because Mac _was_ gay so there was no reason to get annoyed that Dennis knew that, but still. He was angry.

“Look, Mac, I’m not saying that you haven’t constructed a reasonably solid closet around yourself to hide from all the straight guys out there,” Dennis said, reaching out to pat Mac’s knee placatingly, or maybe affectionately. “But as someone who _also_ likes men, I happen to see some of the signs. For example, all the shorts you wear? They’re atrocious.”

“I look good!” Mac protested.

“You do,” Dennis agreed swiftly, “but by God, are they the tiniest fucking things I’ve ever seen! Half the time I can see your fucking scrotum when you’re just wandering around the apartment. That’s not exactly heterosexual. Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

Here, he looked Mac up and down like he was a five course meal. Mac rolled his eyes.

“Sure, I didn’t know _at first_ ,” Dennis continued, “but once I started wondering, the signs starting coming at me at, like, 100 miles an hour. Also, I saw Carmen making out with some chick at the bar a few weeks later, which kind of tipped me off that one or both of you was just a beard.”

“Carmen’s actually bi,” Mac sighed, “but point taken. And I guess I’m not, like, _un_ happy that other gay guys can tell. Maybe it just means I get laid more.”

“It worked for me,” Dennis assured him, going back to his sandwich.

Mac laughed.

 

Mac threw his arm over Dennis’s shoulders, pulling him close against him as they wandered through the aisles. It was as close as they could reasonably get to holding hands, which is what Mac really felt like doing, but there were other people around and he would never risk it in a place like the grocery store. Dennis didn’t seem to notice, bumping his hip against Mac’s as he walked and focusing on looking up and down the shelves as they passed.

“Do you think we need apples?” Dennis was saying. “I’ve never made fritters before.”

Mac stared at him. “Of course we need apples. How are you going to make apple fritters without apples?”

Dennis shook out from under Mac’s arm to glare at him. “Don’t yell at me! I don’t know, I’ve never had to –”

“I’m not _yelling_ ,” Mac said, rolling his eyes. “And I’ve never made them either, but it’s right in the goddamn name –”

“Fucking excuse me for trying new things,” Dennis snapped. “I’m making these for you, you piece of shit, because you had to go and watch the fucking Food Network all night and then you started craving shit like you were a goddamn pregnant woman –”

“Mac?”

They both stopped arguing at once, and looked up. Rex was coming out from by the meat section, holding a couple packages of bacon in the curve of one of his arms.

“Rex?” said Mac, sliding out from under Dennis’s arm and stepping toward him to greet him with a one-armed hug. “Holy shit, dude! What’s going on?”

“Nothing, man, I’m just grocery shopping.” He shrugged the shoulder of the arm holding the bacon.

“Cool, cool,” said Mac. “How long has it been? How’s the girlfriend?”

With his free hand, Rex rubbed at the back of his neck. “Uh, a couple of months, I think. Time flies. And me and her actually broke up about a week after I last spoke to you. Hey,” he added, nodding over Mac’s shoulder.

Mac turned around. At once, Dennis came up close behind him, slipping his arm around Mac’s waist and situating himself right up close to Mac’s side. He was warm, Mac could feel his body heat from here. He leaned into it. He turned to look at him, but Dennis was standing so close that it was definitely a little obviously gay when Mac’s nose was practically brushing his cheek.

“Hey, Rex,” Dennis said. Though his voice was level, there was an edge of something angry and sharp underneath it. Mac furrowed his brow at him.

“Hey. Dennis, right?” Rex reached his arm out for a fist bump. Dennis just stared at him, chin turned up, eyes narrowed. He didn’t move his arm at all. Unflaggingly and painfully sincerely sweet, Rex dropped his hand and pressed on, “You’re the roommate, right?”

Dennis’s fingers flexed and tightened on Mac’s ribs.

Mac cleared his throat. He said, “Oh, actually, he’s my –”

“Boyfriend,” Dennis interrupted loudly. “I’m the boyfriend.”

Mac stared at him. Dennis was still glaring at Rex, although Mac felt that now it was much more because he didn’t want to return Mac’s gaze than because he was still posturing for Rex. Mac was close to saying something before it occurred to him how loudly Dennis had been speaking, and he did a quick scan of the area to make sure no one had heard him. They were clear; at the very least, nobody was looking at them. Mac turned back to Rex, who was still just smiling.

“Oh, cool,” said Rex. “I’m happy for you guys. I didn’t know you were into dudes though, Dennis. Didn’t clock you, I guess.”

Dennis’s face was still stony. He didn’t say anything. The silence stretched on for a beat too long to be comfortable.

“Well Rex,” Mac said loudly, “what are you up to these days?”

“Just gym and the club, man. Just gym and the club.” He smiled, loose and relaxed. Mac had forgotten how simple it was to hang out with Rex. All he really wanted was to have a good time, so he was always easy-going. “Anyway, I gotta go, guys. I have to meet my mom for dinner and she’s gonna flip out if I’m late again.”

“See you around, dude,” said Mac.

Dennis grunted something like “goodbye” and Rex disappeared. Almost immediately, Dennis pulled his arm away from around Mac’s waist and grabbed idly for the list in his hand.

“So what else are we missing?” he said, scanning the paper. “Shit, dude, this is just regular grocery shit. Why didn’t we research apple fritters before we left the apartment?”

Mac tripped along after Dennis as he started to walk away. He put a hand on Dennis’s shoulder and shoved, turning him back toward him and forcing him to a stop.

“What the fuck, Mac?”

“What the hell was that, dude?” Mac said, pointing toward where they had been talking with Rex.

“What was what?” But Dennis wasn’t quite looking him in the eye.

Mac couldn’t help it – he meant it to be a serious conversation, but his face wouldn’t stop trying to break out into a grin. He lost the battle, the edges of his mouth turning up.

“What was _that_? Boyfriend?” he repeated. He lowered his voice significantly. Dennis leaned in closer toward him to hear. “Is that – Are we boyfriends, is that what we’re doing? Is that what this is?”

Dennis shifted uncomfortably between his feet. At least he was looking Mac in the eye now, although possibly just because he was doing that thing where he was trying to seem nonchalant. As though Mac might not think this was a big deal if Dennis just acted like it wasn’t one.

But not even Dennis could pretend his way out of this one.

“I don’t know,” Dennis said shiftily. “I mean, I figured – yeah. You’re not seeing anyone else, are you?”

“No,” Mac said, although the tone of Dennis’s voice suggested he probably didn’t need the confirmation. Dennis already knew – and it’s not like Mac ever had any room to go out with other guys anyway, considering how work took up half his time and Dennis sunk his teeth greedily into all the rest.

“And you don’t want to, do you?”

“No, of course I don’t.” It wasn’t even a question.

“Then…yeah,” said Dennis. “Then you’re my boyfriend.”

Mac swallowed. He hadn’t had a boyfriend in a very long time. It felt natural, though, to break that spell now. After a second, he gave in and let his face split into a grin.

“Okay,” he said.

He wanted to do something – to reach out and grab Dennis’s hand as they walked through the store, to hug him, to back him up against the wall of chips behind him and kiss him stupid. But they were in public, so he couldn’t. He settled for grinning at him until it went on so long that Dennis rolled his eyes and threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close.

“Come on,” he said, dragging Mac back into a walk. “Let’s finish finding the rest of the shit on this list so we can celebrate throwing away the key on these damn fucking chains.”

 

Dennis’s grin bumped up against Mac’s as he curled his fingers through Dennis’s belt loops and jostled him back up against the kitchen counter. Dennis curled his fists into Mac’s hair and pulled him close.

“Wipe that fucking smirk off your face,” Mac murmured, nudging his nose against his.

“Fucking make me,” Dennis whispered.

With a little laugh, Mac leaned the rest of the way in and kissed him. Dennis wound his arms around Mac’s neck, hauling him in closer as he rocked backward, spine curving over the counter. Mac ran his hands up Dennis’s sides, felt his hips and his ribs and his chest, then swept them back down to anchor him against Mac’s own body. Dennis pulled Mac’s lower lip in between his teeth, bit down and sucked on it after, not that it eased the ache at all. Mac didn’t care; he kind of liked the slight edge of pain to it, and he groaned as he leaned to cover Dennis’s mouth properly with his own again.

Dennis’s tongue flicked out, and Mac pushed his up against it. Dennis’s hands slid across Mac’s chest and then up under his shirt, and his nails dug into his skin and raked down. Mac tightened his fingers on Dennis’s hips, his chest arching forward instinctively.

“God, Mac,” Dennis muttered against his mouth. His hands had wandered, found his ass. He squeezed. He seemed to really like Mac’s ass.

Mac pressed his lips to the side of Dennis’s neck. “Hmm?”

Dennis didn’t answer, maybe too distracted by the way Mac licked his skin and bit down gently on his collarbone. Dennis pulled Mac against him with the hands on his ass, until they were pressed together all along their fronts; Mac pulled some of the skin of his throat into his mouth and started to suck a mark there. Dennis tipped his head back and moaned. Mac worked at it until he was sure the skin would be dark red and irritated before he let it go, and all the while Dennis jerked his hips against Mac’s in abortive little movements, like he couldn’t help seeking that little bit of relief. But it was Dennis, so he was absolutely doing it on purpose.

He kissed Dennis’s neck again in a different spot – a lighter, simpler thing. “God, that sounded hot.”

“You kissing me?”

“You moaning from me kissing you.”

Dennis grabbed his face and pulled their mouths back together. Mac whined a little into it now, his hips pressing forward impulsively. Dennis did the same, the hard line of their cocks pressing up against each other. Mac scrambled to tear open some of the buttons on Dennis’s shirt, scattered a few on the floor and got bitten hard on his lower lip in retaliation.

“This was my last nice button up,” Dennis growled in between kisses. His hands squeezed Mac’s ass again, keeping them pressed up to each other. Mac jerked his hips helplessly against the indent where Dennis’s thigh ended. “Stop fucking tearing them off.”

Mac spread his hands across Dennis’s bare chest, his thumbs rubbing against his nipples. Dennis groaned into Mac’s open mouth.

“Stop looking so fucking sexy in them, then,” Mac returned. “They’re so easy to open.”

He ran his fingertips along Dennis’s ribs and along the long lines of his hips. Dennis shuddered under his touch.

“Fuck off, you’ve torn a ton of my other shirts, too. Just tear ‘em right down the middle. I’ve seen it!”

“All your shirts are old. They basically rip themselves,” Mac argued. Dennis rolled his eyes. Mac said, “Have you ever thought that you should stop wearing shirts you don’t want torn to shreds?”

Dennis’s fingers ran along the top of his jeans, all along his hips, then dipped below the waistline to inch further down his ass. Mac attached his mouth to Dennis’s jaw and bit down.

“Are you blaming me for what _you_ –”

Mac pressed one of his hands to his cheek and maneuvered him until their lips slotted back together. An irritated sound rumbled out of Dennis’s throat, but Mac pressed his tongue into his mouth and ignored it. He grabbed Dennis by the belt and pulled them roughly tougher. It mildly backfired; he was the one who moaned, but Dennis rocked them together as they kissed.

“Come here,” Mac panted against his mouth.

He pulled them back until he bumped painfully into the other counter; they bounced off the doorframe, off the handle on the fridge, off the edge of the sink. Finally Mac got him pushed up against a clear space of counter and Dennis edged up onto it little by little until he was sitting there, legs spread. They kissed roughly as Mac pushed in between Dennis’s thighs, a messy clatter of teeth.

“Mac,” Dennis whined, his fingers inching up Mac’s t-shirt. “Take this shit off.”

Dennis caught the hem of it in his hands and tugged it as far up his chest as he could. Every time Mac tried to back up enough to pull it off, though, Dennis leaned in again until their mouths were reconnected and wouldn’t let him go. Finally Mac, laughing against his mouth, pressed him back by the shoulders so he could pull the shirt over his head. Dennis, impatient or maybe that desperate, tugged on Mac’s belt until he was close enough for Dennis to yank it clean out of his jeans. Mac let him pull it free, then leaned back into another kiss.

Dennis’s hands were running over his chest, across his arms, yanking on his hair so his mouth fell open in a gasp and Dennis could kiss him deeper, harder.

“What are you thinking?” Mac said, pulling back just enough to study Dennis’s face.

Dennis was panting. There was a moment where they just stood there, staring at each other.

“Let me play with your cock,” Dennis gasped at last, on an intake of breath, and his eyes darting between each of Mac’s.

Mac swallowed hard. “Here?” he asked, very aware and very much ignoring the several octaves his voice jumped up.

“Yeah, here, who cares?” Dennis said. “What, you can blow me in the shower this morning but you can’t plow me in our kitchen?”

 _Our kitchen_. The fact that he was fucking the guy he shared his apartment with made him feel more and more like a lesbian that had U-Hauled immediately. At least when they did it in one of their rooms, it was more like having a one-night stand.

But then again. They had already labeled them _boyfriends_. And this wasn’t the first time that Mac had protested, and Dennis had won.

Dennis leaned in to brush kisses all along his throat, to where his pulse was jumping under his skin, across his jaw and back up to his mouth. Mac instinctively wrapped his arms around his waist until Dennis was close enough to cross his legs behind Mac’s back.

“Okay,” Mac said when they next came up for air. “Up against the fridge or down on the floor?”

 

Dennis’s birthday came in the middle of another heatwave, this one in August. For weeks leading up to it, Dennis swore that he didn’t care enough to make a fuss, and Mac certainly wasn’t the type to give him one; but then Dennis found out that Dee was throwing herself a birthday party and, in between commenting nonstop on how sad that was for people their age, he still edged and elbowed his way in until half of the prospective attendees were his friends, anyway. When he boasted about this, Mac thought it safest not to point out that that still only brought the guest list up to about six or seven people.

They woke up sometime in the afternoon on the eighteenth, curled together on Mac’s bed where they had fallen the night before. Dennis pulled him closer with the arm around his waist and propped his chin up on Mac’s chest. Mac stroked a hand idly through Dennis’s hair and smiled down at him.

“Happy birthday,” Mac said.

Dennis grinned cheekily. “What’s my birthday present?”

“Later,” Mac insisted. “At the party.”

Dennis crawled onto his knees, bending to press his lips to first Mac’s chest, and then up to his collar and his cheek. He loomed over Mac, grinning down at him.

“I can’t get a sneak preview?” Dennis said. “Not even a little bit of something to get me through the day?”

Between Mac’s legs, Dennis shook his ass and laughed. Grinning, Mac grabbed him and pulled him back down to the bed.

Later, the party was even lamer than anticipated. The only people there were Dennis, Dee, Mac, Charlie, Dee’s friend Artemis, and some guy named Schmitty that Dennis said he knew from high school. At a loss, having only met three of the other attendees, Mac spent the first three and a half hours sitting in the corner and drinking steadily. Dennis, for all he said that he was a good boyfriend and shit nowadays, spent that time hanging off of Schmitty and doing shots with his sister.

Mac moved after nearly four hours to go take a piss. When he came back, Dennis was gone from the living room. Mac found Schmitty in the kitchen, getting more beer out of Dee’s fridge.

“Hey man,” he said, leaning against the counter.

Schmitty turned around. “Oh hey, dude. Mac, right?”

“Yeah. Have you seen Dennis?”

Schmitty raised his eyebrows. “Why would I know where Dennis fucked off to?” he asked, laughing.

Mac arched a brow. “Uh, maybe because he’s been hanging off your shoulder like you’re taking him to the prom all night, dude.”

Schmitty laughed. “What? You sound jealous as shit, guy.”

“Not jealous,” Mac said loudly, shaking his head. “I’m not jealous. Just wondering where my roommate is.”

Schmitty still looked smug, like he knew something Mac didn’t. This was a ridiculous conversation and it had barely started; Mac immediately decided that he didn’t like Schmitty much at all.

“Okay, whatever,” he said. “I don’t know where Dennis went, man.”

Mac scoffed and rolled his eyes. After a second, he shook his head and walked away.

The apartment wasn’t big enough for Dennis to disappear inside it. Barring both the bathroom and kitchen, Mac quickly searched the place; at last he found him, leaning over the railing on Dee’s fire escape and smoking a cigarette, looking up at the stars.

He was stubbing the cigarette out on the metal and then tossing it down toward the street as Mac ducked out the window and joined him. Behind him, the curtain fell back over the window, hiding them from the apartment within.

“Hey, babe,” he said, leaning against the rail beside him. “You left.”

“Sure did,” said Dennis. “Just for a smoke break, though.”

He opened the pack that he pulled from one of his jean pockets and got another one out. Mac unearthed a spare lighter out of his leather jacket and held it up before Dennis could find his own. Stopping patting down his pockets, Dennis grinned at him and cupped his hands over the end of the cigarette, blocking out the wind. Mac leaned close and, eyes on Dennis’s, held the flame up to the end.

When it was lit, he shook it out and returned the Zippo back to his jacket, shoving his hands in his pockets too.

“You’re missing your birthday,” Mac said.

Instead of answering, Dennis reached out and wound his arm around Mac’s waist, tugging him closer. Laughing, Mac leaned his face into his neck and kissed his throat lightly, and when he pulled back Dennis lifted the cigarette up for Mac to take a drag of his own. Mac did, keeping his eyes open as he breathed it in, his gaze steady on Dennis’s a few inches away.

“Ashy,” Mac said when Dennis pulled it away. He smiled. “Camels?”

“Don’t give me any shit. Your taste in cigarettes is gross,” said Dennis.

“Yeah? You should see my taste in men.”

Dennis’s mouth gaped open, offended, but Mac was laughing when Dennis grabbed him by the back of his neck and kissed him.

Their mouths moved slowly together. Dennis’s hand was gentle on the side of Mac’s face, and Mac leaned into it, tilting his head to better fit his lips to Dennis’s. Dennis smiled, and his teeth caught on Mac’s lower lip, rolling it between them. He sucked, lightly; Mac groaned and pressed closer, his hand spread out along the small of Dennis’s back, pulling him in until they were fitted together chest to chest.

“Ow! Jesus fucking shit, holy Christ, _ow_.”

Mac jumped away from him, hand clamping over the back of his neck.

“What? What happened?” said Dennis.

“Your fucking cigarette just burned me,” said Mac. He spun around, tugging the collar of his jacket and shirt away from his body. “Look at it. Is there a mark?”

He felt Dennis’s fingers, light and nimble against the back of his neck. His thumb swiped against a spot near his hairline.

“Yeah, I nicked you a little bit,” said Dennis. Mac felt him press a kiss to the top of his spine, next to the mark. The cigarette burn throbbed under the rush of heat that came over him when Dennis’s lips touched him. “Sorry, baby boy. It was an accident. Does it hurt?”

“Of course it hurts, you son of a bitch,” said Mac, spinning back around. “You fucking burned me.”

He snatched the cigarette out from between Dennis’s fingers and took a lengthy drag. After, he blew the smoke in a long stream out of the corner of his mouth. Dennis’s eyes were unwavering on him. When he was done with the drag, he flicked the still mostly-unsmoked cigarette over the edge of the fire escape, ignoring the protests that followed. He curled his fingers through Dennis’s belt loops and tugged him closer, their crotches bumping against each other as they walked backward toward the building.

“Are you gonna make me feel better or what?” said Mac, already angling his mouth toward Dennis’s.

Grinning, Dennis curled his now-freed hands into Mac’s hair and brought their mouths back together. Mac licked along the roof of his mouth, slow and rolling in the way that always made Dennis shiver like he had been submerged suddenly in ice water. Mac bit down hard on his lip, fighting his own smile. It was hard enough that it could have drawn blood if Dennis didn’t pull away; his lip stretched and dragged, releasing with a small, slick sound. He let Mac lean in and rub the tip of his tongue along the tiny imprints his teeth had left behind.

“Bastard,” Dennis mumbled.

In response, Mac took the same wounded flesh between his lips and sucked on it, loose and easy but enough that after a while he could feel the blood swelling as it grew irritated and puffy. He would look good, later. After this his lips were going to be red and wet and defined.

“I can stop if you want me to,” Mac whispered back. They were still so close that their mouths brushed when they spoke. Dennis was smiling again.

Dennis’s lips trailed to the corner of his mouth, then against his jaw, and along his throat up to underneath his ear. Mac breathed out shakily, halfway between tickled and turned on. Twelve hours was good enough for him – he was starting to feel confined in his jeans, and the friction of pressing up against Dennis felt so, so sweet.

“C’mere, Den,” he mumbled, his fingers moving lightly under Dennis’s chin to tilt his face back up toward Mac’s.

At first he just teased him – Dennis’s mouth hung ajar, waiting for him, but Mac only leaned in and gave little flicks of the tip of his tongue against Dennis’s, coaxing him to open his mouth further, breathe Mac in more. Dennis liked to play whatever game was set before him, he always had, and he tiptoed along with Mac until finally Mac decided that Dennis was wanting for him enough, and he pressed his tongue fully along Dennis’s, hands sliding down to his waist. Dennis pushed Mac until his back was flush against the brick wall, fingers tugging hard in his hair. Mac moaned, mouth falling open further, encouraging Dennis’s tongue to follow back between his teeth. Mac’s hands slid further, slipping from his waist down around to slide into his back pockets. Their hips rocked and slotted together and Dennis panted into Mac’s mouth.

“Are you having a good birthday?” asked Mac, leaning down to bite at Dennis’s jaw. Matching teeth marks as were on his lower lip, twin indentations that would fade in an hour or so. He moved to the side of his neck, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses there that occasionally turned harder, more insistent. “You’re twenty-three.”

“It’s pretty much the same fucking thing as twenty-two,” said Dennis, laughing breathlessly as he tilted back his head so Mac could continue with what he was doing.

“Nothing new at all?” Mac asked innocently, looking Dennis in the eye.

With his thumb, he pulled down on Dennis’s lower lip. Under the nearly-full moon, Dennis’s skin glowed, and the shadows and light played and danced across the angles of his cheeks and jaw. He looked beautiful, riveting; Mac’s eyes traced every inch of his face and he licked his lips. He wasn’t just pretty, he was captivating. Mac didn’t have the wherewithal to immortalize it in any way, not through photograph or drawing, but he looked and looked until it was imprinted on his memory. At the very least, it would live there.

The tip of Dennis’s tongue darted out and wet his fingertip. Mac pressed it further into his mouth. Dennis bit down playfully and pulled away.

“I’m kind of drunk, and you’re putting hickeys on my neck,” said Dennis, chuckling. “How exactly is that different?”

Smiling, Mac leaned in and replaced his thumb with his mouth. Dennis’s lips were warm and slick, and he tasted like the beer he had been drinking all night and the tequila he had been licking off Mac’s tongue for the last ten minutes. He made a small, needy sound when Mac pressed his knee up between his legs, and Dennis rocked against it willingly. They couldn’t do much out on the fire escape, but they could do this: Dennis planting his hands on either side of Mac’s shoulders on the wall behind him and grinding down on the offered thigh until sweat collected at his hairline, until he was sighing and moaning prettily in the moonlight.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured.

He tucked his face into Mac’s neck and the next second, the flat of his tongue was licking again and again over the arched skin of his throat. Dennis’s teeth were there then, smiling then biting down on the tautened, visible tendon on Mac’s neck. Mac squeezed his ass, his own hips tilting up, the hardening line of his dick sliding against Dennis’s. Dennis moaned, the suction of his mouth growing sharper and almost painful against Mac’s neck. They would have matching marks, which they usually avoided, but that could be explained away just this once if someone asked tomorrow. It wasn’t a stretch to think they both got lucky on the same night. How they were ever going to make it back inside in a few minutes, though, Mac didn’t know.

And he didn’t care, not right now. The back of Mac’s head hit the brick building behind him. Dennis let go of his throat and his teeth scraped against the stubble on Mac’s jaw.

“Fuck, I’m glad you didn’t get rid of this after all,” Dennis panted. One of his hands fell from Mac’s hair, and his nails were rough scratching against Mac’s beard.

“Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t listen to you, huh?” said Mac. He angled Dennis back in for another kiss. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Dennis laughed against his mouth. “Oh yeah?”

“I could,” said Mac.

“You’ve been saying that for months, and I’ve never seen you listen to me before,” said Dennis. “Now shut the fuck up and kiss me, bitch.”

Mac rolled his eyes. But still, he cupped his cheek, rubbed his thumb along his jaw, and pulled him back in.

 

Summer ended. Dennis got a job slinging drinks at Hard Rock Café. The dawning of autumn came and then melted into its end, and then winter was upon Philadelphia. It was as cold as the summer had been hot, and Mac’s desire to strip down and bare his arms fought brutally with the chills that wracked him at almost all times. Fuck the East Coast. And fuck their landlord, because their heater was broken again.

“I’m going to fucking kill you if you don’t hurry up,” Dennis drawled, leaning against the door of Mac’s room.

Mac pulled a sweater over his head, the sleeves lopped off and the edges sewed up by Charlie in exchange for a cheese sandwich. Dennis came into the room, tugging on the bottom of the sweater and stepping up close, chest to chest.

“That sweater is ugly as shit,” said Dennis.

“Fuck you! I look good,” said Mac, pushing at his chest trying to get away, but Dennis grabbed his hips instead and held him fast.

“I’ll admit, there’s not an outfit that your arms can’t make look halfway decent,” said Dennis. Grinning, he leaned in close, and although he let Dennis kiss him, Mac didn’t stop pouting. Dennis leaned away and rolled his eyes. “Oh, lighten up. Are you done? We’re going to miss the sunset.”

“That’s so fucking gay,” Mac said, shaking his head.

Mac shoved him harder and Dennis backed away, laughing.

“Just get dressed, man,” said Dennis. “I didn’t plan this shit for nothing.”

Mac threw his leather jacket over his sweater, spritzed himself in cologne, and met Dennis out in the living room where he was waiting and drinking a beer. He set it down half-finished on the coffee table and followed Mac out into the hall.

Mac was grumbling by the time they were halfway out into the park. Dennis snapped at him to shut up and pulled him to a stop. Mac set down the backpack he was carrying. Dennis cleared some snow off the edge of the fountain and gestured for Mac to sit down. The stone was cold through his jeans; Dennis sat down next to him, close, his thigh warm pressed to Mac’s even through the layers of their pants. Mac freed some beer from the backpack and handed a can over to Dennis.

“Thanks.”

They were already fairly late, and the sun had begun setting on their walk over to the park. Still, it was a nice view over the tree line. Dennis threw his arm around Mac’s shoulders, and Mac passed him one of the sandwiches from the backpack. Dennis didn’t touch his, just let it sit in its Tupperware on his lap, but Mac opened his and bit into it, leaning into Dennis’s side. They both cracked open their beers, clinked them together in a toast, and tipped their heads back to drink.

“It’s an amazing view, bro, I’ll admit that,” said Mac.

“Of course it is, you think I wouldn’t take my boyfriend to see an amazing view?” Dennis scoffed, jostling Mac a little under his arm. “Help me finish off these beers.”

The sun was nearly set by the time they were down to the ends of the six pack. Dennis was taking his time drinking, and Mac wiped the last drips of his beer off his chin and tossed the can into the distance. They were a little further apart now, and Mac turned toward Dennis, tucking one of his legs up on the fountain edge too and watching him down the last of his beer. The sandwiches had been finished and the containers tucked back away, and Mac watched the line of Dennis’s throat working as his swallowed around his drink. He glanced around the park; it was pretty much empty what with the cold and the dark, but not completely vacant. There were some bushes over there that would hide them, though, and Mac thought he should have brought a blanket or something, because there was no way that Dennis was going to let him lay him out in the dirt and do everything he wanted to do. Starting with getting his mouth on that throat.

Dennis finished his beer and threw it out into the dark too. Mac opened his mouth to ask him to come find a darker place to make out when Dennis looked at him and spoke first.

“Mac,” he said, and he was watching him closely like he was studying him, or memorizing him. “I love you.”

Dennis just sat there after, hands on his thighs and smiling slightly at him like he didn’t have any idea how he had just rocked the world off its axis. Mac was frozen, staring at him, until the bare smile faded off of Dennis’s face and he blinked back.

“I love you,” he repeated, like he thought maybe Mac hadn’t heard him. “Oh goddamn it. Are you listening to me?”

Mac’s skin was itching with wanting to pull him in and kiss him. But there were still people, so instead he said, “Come with me.”

He was already walking away. Dennis caught up the backpack and tripped after him. It was dark enough now, the sun fully set, so that Mac felt comfortable reaching out and fumbling for his hand. Dennis threaded their fingers and squeezed.

“Where the fuck are we –”

They were at the bushes Mac had seen. Mac cut him off by shoving him hard against the trunk of a nearby tree – Dennis dropped the backpack – Mac pressed his body against Dennis’s and kissed him hard.

“I love you too,” he mumbled against Dennis’s lips, pulling back to breathe. “Fuck, dude –”

Dennis scrabbled to thread his fingers into Mac’s hair and pull.

“Hey, yeah,” he mumbled into Mac’s mouth. “I love you too, I love you too.”

They kissed, pulled at each other, fell to the ground and Dennis pushed him into the dirt and bit down hard on his lower lip. Mac pressed his tongue into his mouth and slipped his hands into the back pockets of Dennis’s jeans, squeezing, pulling him down close. It was sweet and good but after a minute or so of this the snow and wet started seeping in through the back of Mac’s leather jacket and he shoved Dennis back. Dennis didn’t go willingly, but eventually he pushed himself to his knees between Mac’s legs. Mac reached out and Dennis grabbed his hand to pull him up too.

“You are ruining this leather, man,” Mac said, doing his best to twist around and brush snow off his back.

Dennis shuffled on his knees until he could lean around Mac’s body and smack the rest of the snow off. He was so close leaning over him that Mac couldn’t help but reach up and pull him down by the neck, kissing him wet and deep again for a long minute.

“No, you’re right,” said Dennis, pulling away. “My jeans are getting fucking soaked. Come on.”

They scrambled up to their feet. Mac slung the backpack up over his shoulder and Dennis grabbed his hand as they started trudging back toward the apartment through the snow. They dropped hands once they were out of the shadows of the trees, but they were still walking so close together that their knuckles brushed every other step.

Once the door was closed behind them, Mac wanted to push him up against the wall again but their clothes were still wet from the outside. They dropped the backpack to the ground and peeled off their dank garments; by the time they were done they were just in their underwear, which were only slightly damp, and their t-shirts.

Dennis grinned and grabbed Mac around the waist. They kissed on their way walking backwards toward Dennis’s room.

“I fucking love you,” Mac mumbled.

“Yeah, me too.”

Dennis shut the door.

 

They went to work, they came home exhausted, they talked about opening up a bar. Their lives were already threaded together in almost every conceivable way, it made sense that they should start intertwining their careers too. They saved enough money to make an investment, Dennis gathered all the knowledge he had from working at the Hard Rock Café, and they roped Charlie and Dee into it too. Life went on.

 

Mac was lying on the couch, head pillowed in Dennis’s lap while they watched TV. Dennis ran his hand through Mac’s hair in lazy, idle strokes. The small amount of gel he had slicked in was breaking up the more he did it, but Dennis kept doing it, and Mac nestled further into his lap.

“I’m just saying that it’s stupid to keep casting him in shit,” Mac was saying. “Look at him and then look at, say, Schwarzenegger or Adrien Brody. I mean, Jason Statham’s physique is _nothing_ like the lineup in Predator.”

“Are you kidding me? I know Statham doesn’t take his shirt off in this film, but when he does –”

“Dennis, in body mass _alone_ …”

“You know what? I don’t give a shit, dude,” said Dennis. “You’ve been talking about this for like, twenty minutes. So yeah, sure. You’re right or whatever. Whatever will get you to shut the hell up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up,” Mac said, crawling up onto his knees and looming over Dennis where he sat. “Dick.”

“Get out of my way,” Dennis said, “I can’t see the TV.”

He shoved Mac in the chest so he fell beside him on the couch. Mac slid closer and slipped his arm around Dennis’s shoulder, pressing close. Dennis’s hand found Mac’s thigh and squeezed. They let the movie play for a few more minutes.

“We should go out for dinner tonight, to celebrate,” Dennis said after a moment.

Mac glanced at him for a second. “What? Why?”

He could feel Dennis looking at him. After a moment, he said, “You know what today is, Mac?”

Mac didn’t take his eyes off the TV. For all he had said before, this was a fairly interesting movie. Jason Statham was hot, anyway.

“No, what?”

“It’s been a year since you moved in, bro,” said Dennis.

“A year since we met?”

“A year since we met,” Dennis said, nodding at him.

Mac finally turned to look at him. Dennis turned down the TV.

“Oh shit,” said Mac. He reached up and brushed his hand through Dennis’s hair. Dennis smiled at him. “Guess that makes it a year since you realized you were totally the luckiest son of a bitch in the world for meeting me.”

“Is that what it is?” Dennis said. He inched closer, nose nearly brushing Mac’s. “Is that what you think it is?”

“That’s the truth,” said Mac, also grinning.

“Shut the fuck up,” said Dennis, and he fisted his hand in Mac’s t-shirt and kissed him.

“Should we do something special today, then?” said Mac when they came up for air. “You know, to celebrate or whatever?”

“Fuck no,” said Dennis. “Maybe dinner later. But I just wanna crack open a bottle of champagne and spend the day making out on the couch.”

“That sounds like exactly what we’ve been doing for one entire year,” Mac said. “I’m in.”

Dennis laughed and pulled him back in.

 

They opened a bar with their two best friends, they got drunk and high and pulled off schemes, they got mad at each other, they made up for entire afternoons. Life went on.

But sometimes, while it did, Mac would reach out and take Dennis’s hand in his. When Dennis looked over and smiled at him, Mac was glad, honestly, that he never listened to a goddamn word he said.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me at [lesbianfreyja on tumblr](http://lesbianfreyja.tumblr.com/post/176988209700) ♥


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